


Count the Daylight Hours

by nereidee (aurasama)



Series: Nascence [1]
Category: Amnesia: The Dark Descent
Genre: Angst, Blood Sharing, Cutting, Eventual Happy Ending, Homophobic violence in later chapters, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Master & Servant, Melancholy, Romance, Self-Harm, Slow Burn, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-28
Updated: 2017-02-25
Packaged: 2018-07-18 21:42:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 116,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7331632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aurasama/pseuds/nereidee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the death of his sister Hazel, Daniel is at a loss. There is nothing for him in England anymore, nothing of importance - he wants to get out and get away, no matter where. After a colleague tips him off an elusive foreign nobleman in need of servants, Daniel takes up the offer and journeys deep into the dark woodlands of Prussia to meet his employer. Unbeknownst to him, he may find himself sooner than expected treading deep in the secrets of castle Brennenburg - all the way up to his neck.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

_November 1840_  
  
The chambers smelled of dust and ashes. He could not comprehend why; everything was so pristinely clean that it looked entirely untouched. It was hard to imagine anyone had ever so much as walked around in these rooms, but he had been told by the baron they had belonged to his previous caretaker.  
  
”How did he die?” Daniel had asked outrider who'd escorted him the entire way to his new home.  
  
”We are not sure,” the man had replied thoughtfully. ”He was not particularly old, but I hear his heart failed. You never know, perhaps he was of ill health.”  
  
The ride from the nearest town had taken nearly the whole evening. The narrow road had lead through murky Prussian woods, slowly rising onto hills where a spectacular view of the valleys below had welcomed him. He'd thought the swaying of the carriage would make him sick. Much as he was accustomed to carriage rides from his native England, he'd never ridden up hills such as these. But much later, gazing upon the same view from his window, he had to admit it was quite something. He had an unhindered view of the infinite valleys, the castle built so high up that not even the highest tree tops could reach up to the windows.  
  
How he had ended up accepting a post in this remote castle still seemed like a strange dream. The past year had been a blur. Upon returning from Algeria with his colleague and superior, professor Herbert, he had received terrible news; his little sister had passed away in his absence after a long battle against her illness. He had little memory of the months that followed. He'd been supposed to assist in cataloguing the artifacts they'd brought back from their expedition, preparing them for an eventual public exhibition, but his heart had no longer been in it. There had been very little that had brough comfort, and eventually professor Herbert had approached him with a proposition.  
  
”A baron?”  
  
The professor had nodded, pressing the letter in his hands. ”He's a benefactor of the university. Helps fund our expeditions, you know. I've met him once or twice – and he's looking to hire service personnel.”  
  
”But—”  
  
”Look into it, Daniel. A positive change could do you good.”  
  
He had done as the professor instructed and applied for the open position, that of a caretaker to the castle. Baron Alexander was an elderly Prussian noble with no wife and no heir, and according to his own description, he was growing too old to take care of his property all alone. When Daniel arrived to Brennenburg, he could understand why. While the castle was not enormous by any standards, it was still roomy enough with two large wings and the main hall. All of it was built in three floors, with two above ground and one underground, but much to Daniel's relief, all of it was not his responsibility. Certain areas of the castle were unused, it seemed, and according to the stories he'd heard while staying in Altstadt, the nearest village, the underground floors had once upon a time served as the town prison before an official one had been built in a more accessible place. These days, it seemed, all that was kept down there was wine.  
  
Unkempt though it was, Brennenburg castle was still a sight. Daniel thought it was both a beautiful and sad place. Daylight cast the corridors in such faint light that most places needed torches and candles even during the day. The underground cellar, on the other hand, had fallen into such disuse that parts of it had caved in. An aura of neglect hung heavily over Brennenburg, and he was not sure any amount of renovation would diminish it. To Daniel's astonishment, no one else seemed to live there but the baron. How he'd managed so far was a mystery – upon their initial meeting, Daniel had got the impression that he could not afford to keep the castle fully staffed, though it very clearly needed it. The baron seemed quite content with his lifestyle, however, and Daniel wondered if he was simply a hermit and preferred it this way, without too many people bursting the bubble of his quiet world.  
  
However odd his new employer was, Daniel dearly liked his new lodgings. The wallpapers in his rooms showed no sign of age and there wasn't a trace of soot in the fireplace. The bed had quite impressed him. A large four-poster with heavy draperies of green velvet and such beautifully embroidered quilt that he could hardly believe it was meant to serve as the caretaker's quarters. Had he not known better, he would have assumed the room belonged to a relative of the baron's, but it seemed he had none left alive.  
  
His tasks were simple enough. Cleaning and renovating where applicable; trying to stop the castle's fall into decay the best he could. During warmer parts of the year he would be responsible for the garden. He had been happily surprised to find many of the outer buildings in agreeable condition. A tool shed on the grounds hosted a ready supply of carpentry tools and wood, glass for the window panes, bricks and tiles and tar and all manner of things the outrider sent with a wagon every few months. According to Alexander, the outrider would come and go with his deliveries as he pleased and there was no need to keep an eye on his doings. They'd had this contract for over a decade, it seemed, and Daniel did not complain if it made his job easier.  
  
Rain began splattering against the window, making the world outside blurred and dim. It had rained nearly every day since his arrival, now that autumn was speeding towards winter. He pulled the curtains closed and began tending to the fire. The late autumn chill was creeping in with the approaching dusk and he felt shivery. The thin window panes were not quite enough to keep all the heat of the fire in and he wondered how Alexander had managed through the long and bitter winters on his own. Ever since Daniel had started as the caretaker he'd only seen the baron a handful times – it seemed he slept most of the day, which did not surprise Daniel in the least. He seemed almost frail with his thin frame and though very firm with his instructions, he had not since his arrival been the strict figure of authority the townspeople seemed to see him as.  
  
Unlike the very first night they met.

The warmth of the flames refilled the room and Daniel sat on his bed, staring into the fire thoughtfully. The chill was slowly leaving his fingers. He thought back to the night of his arrival to Brennenburg. The man who'd greeted him at the gates had seemed almost entirely different from his current host.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am very excited to finally present this story to you all. I've been tossing around ideas in my head for a few years, not entirely sure what - if anything - would come out of them, but here we are. The funny thing is, I've never liked vampire fiction particularly much but I've always wanted to try writing one to see if I could create one that I'd enjoy. I hope you will enjoy it, too.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'You bury me slowly, you bury me slowly  
> Take what you can, give what you don't need  
> Still I'll let it be known in every parish; you are loved, you are loved'  
> Susanne Sundfør – When

_October 1840_  
  
Perhaps it was the biting wind, but Daniel felt chills all the way down his spine as the outrider walked him and his trunk through the gates. Ahead of them the main door stood open and in the welcoming golden light stood the tall figure of a man.  
  
The outrider took off his hat and bowed respectfully. ”Lord Baron, sir, this is the Englishman. I beg your pardon that the journey took us so long.”  
  
”Not at all, Gabriel,” the man replied, and his voice had made Daniel's stomach tighten into a bundle of nerves. His voice was deep and rumbling, and though it betrayed no hint of unfriendliness, he felt ill at ease. His posture was perfect, ridig, and he was so thin that he appeared skeletal in the darkness.  
  
”Daniel, this is Lord Baron Alexander von Brennenburg, the sole heir to the castle, and your new employer. May you serve him well and with respect,” the outrider told him.  
  
The baron extended a hand and Daniel took it, bowing deeply.  
  
”It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Daniel.”  
  
”It is a pleasure to meet you too, Lord Baron, sir,” he hastened to reply. ”I wish to be of service to you in any way that I can.”  
  
”And I am sure you will be,” Alexander said, and his smile was all teeth when their eyes met for the first time. The baron's hand was scaldingly hot against his cold skin and even in the darkness his eyes seemed to have a certain glow. Daniel shivered again, but he was certain that this time, it had nothing to do with the wind. Finally, the baron loosened his grip, and turned to look at the outrider instead.  
  
”Thank you very much for your kind assistance, Gabriel. Your help will not go unrewarded.”  
  
”Your lordship is too gracious,” the outrider replied, bowing again.  
  
”Thank you for helping me reach my destination,” Daniel said and the outrider smiled.  
  
”Not at all, Daniel. I hope you'll enjoy your stay. Well then, I must be on my way.” He put on his hat again and nodded. ”Lord Baron. Daniel.”  
  
As the carriage swayed back into the dark woods and vanished from sight, Daniel felt a hand on his shoulder. He could feel the heat radiating even through the fabric.  
  
”Now then,” the baron said. ”Shall we go in? I daresay you would like to see more than just the courtyard.”  
  
”Yes, sir,” he replied, trying not to appear as uncertain as he felt.  
  
The entrance hall was grand and crafted entirely of gray stone. Torchlight flickered on the walls and cast the room in a warm glow, reflecting from the window panes and suits of armour guarding the doorway. The floors were covered in beautifully decorated carpets and further inside, Daniel could see tapestries embroidered with the sigil of the Prussian Black Eagle hanging from the walls.  
  
”I hope you will feel at home in my humble abode,” Alexander said, his voice dripping with humour. Daniel risked a small smile and to his horror, the baron fixed a firm stare directly into his eyes again. They were still standing unnervingly close, and he wondered whether it would be impolite to take a step back.  
  
Daniel cleared his throat. ”Yes, I do believe I will. If I've understood correctly, you tend to the castle Brennenburg on your own at the present, sir?”  
  
”That is correct. It's difficult to find workers willing stay all year around in such a remote location, and the weather can be most disagreeable from autumn to winter,” the baron answered. In this light, his eyes appeared amber. ”My most recent caretaker died suddenly, as you may have heard. His physician could not say for sure, but it appears the long, cruel winters up here had greatly weakened him, and his heart failed.”  
  
”Yes, I heard of that. I am very sorry to hear he passed away in such a manner,” Daniel said sympathetically.  
  
He wished the baron would look away. He felt oddly petrified; it was as though his legs were refusing to move from their spot as long as the baron had his eyes locked with his. Daniel wondered if this was why the people in town spoke of him with such respectful tones. It was clear that this was a man who took orders from no one. He seemed to radiate authority with his very being.  
  
”You're younger than he was when he started at his position,” Alexander mused and finally looked away. Daniel held back his sigh of relief. ”I'm hopeful that your health will not suffer as his did.”  
  
”I hope so too, sir. Please rest assured that I am at the top of my health.”  
  
”That's good to hear. I don't seem to be able to keep my trusty servants with me as long as I'd like,” he said. Daniel waited, but he did not elaborate. ”Would you like to see your quarters? You've had a long journey, and I need you to be well-rested if you are to serve me well.”  
  
”Yes, I'd be glad to see them,” Daniel replied and grabbed his trunk. They made their way through the hall and up a stone staircase, past unlit rooms and down long corridors lined with dusty oil paintings. He could see why the baron needed a caretaker – his property was impressive, but its grandeour was greatly dimmed by the obvious lack of care. The only sign that told him anyone even visited this part of the castle anymore was that many of the lanterns lining the corridors were lit.  
  
Servants' quarters lay at the very end of the left wing. There were several rooms that had hosted maids and kitchen staff and stable hands in the olden times, but the beds lay cold surrounded by old, broken furniture and objects stuffed into wooden boxes and crammed into shelves. Clearly, these rooms were only used as storage anymore.  
  
As though reading his mind, Alexander spoke. ”I can no longer afford to keep the castle fully staffed. It seemed only appropriate to put these rooms into some other use instead of leaving them empty.”  
  
”I would agree with you, sir,” Daniel nodded. ”Still, it is sad to see such beautiful rooms fallen into disuse.”  
  
”Indeed it is so,” the baron sighed. ”There's much in this wing that dates back to the early days of Brennenburg but without able hands to preserve them, their value will no doubt dwindle and vanish over time.”  
  
Daniel quietly agreed. Many of the paintings had become faint, their once vibrant colours lost to dust, dampness and sunlight, and the chairs and divans were badly in need of restoration. A quick observation told him many of the paintings must be very valuable; late 17th century and early 18th century brushwork in impressive gold-tinted frames, many of them taller than a man. He wondered dully if his own lodgings had suffered the same amount of neglect.  
  
”Through here, Daniel,” the baron said as they reached the end of the corridor. He opened a tall mahogany door and Daniel knew at once his fears had been unnecessary. The door lead into a roomy drawing room with impressive gold-and-blue draperies at the windows, tall bookshelves and cozy-looking arm chairs gathered in front of a large fireplace. Some of the furniture were covered with sheets. The carpets were thick and felt soft even through the soles of his boots, and the room looked as though it had only recently been vacated.  
  
If he was quite honest with himself, he could see why the baron could not spare to hire more servants; he had never seen servants' quarters this luxurious.  
  
”I hope you can excuse the mess,” Alexander said, gesturing as the sheet-covered furniture. ”It was the least I could do after the unforeseen passing of my previous caretaker.”  
  
Daniel shook his head and smiled. ”Not at all, sir. I am honoured; this is much more than I expected.”  
  
”Then what did you expect?” the baron asked shrewdly. Daniel flushed but he did not pause to wait for an answer. ”The room to the right is your bedroom. Feel free to furnish it in any way you wish. The door leading to the bathroom is to the left, though I lament to say you will need to heat up your own bathing water.”  
  
”That is perfectly fine, sir,” Daniel said with a little bow. ”There is much more room here than I know what to do with. I feel quite spoiled already.”  
  
At that, the baron laughed. Daniel swallowed nervously. He was delighted to find his host to be a much friendlier man than he had anticipated, but there was something about his laughter that unnerved him. As if it were his own private joke.  
  
”You flatter me,” the baron chuckled with a little shake of his head. ”Nevertheless, I am glad you are pleased with your quarters. Now, let us quickly go over certain technicalities before you turn in for the night.”  
  
”Yes, sir.”  
  
”Your responsibility is the left wing and the main body of the castle, including the entrance hall. The castle library is located in the right wing. You are allowed to visit it at your leisure, but the rest of the wing is off-limits.”  
  
”Why is that, sir?” Daniel said before he could stop himself.  
  
Alexander flashed him a small, lopsided grin. ”My private quarters are located there, and I prefer to take care of them myself.”  
  
”I, ah, understand.”  
  
”Since we are on the subject, I don't want to be disturbed during the day, unless it's an emergency. I've taken to the unfortunate habit of sleeping late in my old age, so you needn't worry if you don't see me until dusk. I often feel much too restless in the darkness to sleep well, so don't be startled if you find me up and about at odd hours.”  
  
Daniel kept his tone neutral when he responded. ”Of course not, sir.”  
  
”Now, for the most important thing – the keys. I advise you to keep the master key with you at all times,” Alexander said, searched in his pocket and passed a heavy brass key to him. ”There is a small cabinet where the rest of the keys are kept by your bedside. All of them are labelled. Make sure to return them in the cabinet after use.”  
  
The Englishman nodded to show his understanding. He vaguely wondered if the baron had been keen to change the subject.He thought back on his childhood and how he had often been too anxious to sleep if it was too dark. Fear of the dark was nothing particularly embarrassing for a child but surely, a noble man would not readily admit to the same fear in front of a servant, and he decided not to ask.  
  
”How you wish to structure your days is up to you. Your predecessor had made extensive notes on how he managed his time between his chores – you can find his old notebook on your desk.” The baron pointed down. ”The servants' kitchen and the dining area are on the first floor. You will need to prepare your own meals, but you don't need to worry about food supplies. My, that is to say, our suppliers bring us replenishments on the last week of every month.”  
  
”Is there a separate food storage?”  
  
”There is,” the baron answered. ”You can access it directly from the kitchen. The rest of the cellar is to be kept locked at all times, and I would advise you to stay out of there. The walls are not stable anymore and there is a risk of cave-ins.”  
  
”Understood, Lord Baron,” Daniel said.  
  
The baron smiled again, and their eyes met for the tiniest of moments. Daniel did not know why, but he felt overcome with the strangest feeling – like an instinct telling him to run, but he could not look away. His legs could have been made of iron and his chest felt too heavy to draw a breath, as though all the weight of the castle was resting upon it. Then Alexander turned away, and the younger man shivered violently. He could feel the exhaustion of the long journey settling heavily in his bones.  
  
”I will let you rest now, Daniel,” the baron said. ”I mean no offense, but you look dead on your feet.”  
  
Well, he thought wryly as the elder left, it was not exactly offensive when he felt like that, too.  
  
A quick glance in the bathroom told him the bathtub had been recently scrubbed. He thought longingly of a long, hot bath before sleep, but decided against. Heating up the water would take its time and he could not guarantee he wouldn't simply fall asleep in front of the fire while waiting.  
  
Deciding to leave bathing and exploring till the next day, he carried his trunk into the bedroom and unpacked his belongings quickly. As impressive as his living quarters were, he could no doubt appreciate them better after a good, long sleep. His temple throbbed dully in agreement. Despite lighting a fire in the fireplace, he felt oddly chilly.  
  
_I hope I did_ _n't_ _catch a cold on_ _the way_ _,_ he thought sleepily, and burrowed underneath the duvet. He could feel his head swimming even as he lay there and listened to the howling of the wind outside, and he drifted off in the matter of minutes.  
  


* * *

  
The next day dawned as bleak as ever. The wind had reached a new peak and Daniel woke up to the windows rattling dully from the draft. The fire had died out sometime during the night, but it was still quite pleasantly warm in the bedroom and he stretched sleepily, taking his time getting dressed. He felt well-rested; the headache was gone, as was the feeling of weariness.  
  
In this gray daylight his room looked even more handsome than the night before. The wallpapers were a pale blue with brown patterns and looked well-cared for – he couldn't spot a sign of mould anywhere. His desk was a deep chestnut colour, highly polished and so smooth that it looked unused. He had haphazardly piled his books on it the night before so he arranged them in the bookshelf next to it instead, leaving the desk empty but for a small portrait of Hazel. Though his work had paid him reasonably well, he hadn't been able to commission a larger painting of her before his departure to Algeria and now, it was the only memento he had of his sister. He sighed wistfully and placed it precisely in the middle of the desk where she would be able to watch him as he worked. Small though it was, the portrait was so lifelike that he nearly expected her to start speaking.  
  
”Right,” he said, still gazing at the portrait. ”This will be our new home from now on.”  
  
There was quite a bit of empty space in the room and he decided to carry in one of the arm chairs from the drawing room. He could do with a cozy reading chair for those evenings when he was not in the mood to sit alone in the next room, much too large for one person alone.  
  
As he was removing the sheets covering the furniture, he noticed another large, sheet-covered object in the corner next to the bathroom door. He gave the sheet a tentative yank and as it fell off, he let out a soft ”oh!” in surprise.  
  
There was a mirror underneath. Nearly as tall as he was and with a gilded, decorative frame of vines and flowers, it was more a work of art than just a mere mirror. The gold had dimmed slightly and the glass had cracked in one of the corners, but even so it was much too lovely to be stowed away like that. It brought to mind the illustrations he'd seen of the palace of Versailles, and he decided he wanted it in his room. It was, after all, much better suited even in the caretaker's room than forgotten in a corner, and very carefully, he lifted the heavy mirror and carried it in his bedroom.  
  
It had started to drizzle and raindrops drummed against the window every now and then when a gust of wind blew them off course. Daniel pulled on his thicker overcoat, checked his reflection quickly, and headed out of the caretaker's quarters with the master key safely in his pocket.  
  
After a brief breakfast he stepped out into the grounds. The wind caught the door and he stumbled to keep it from slamming. It was even colder than the day before, and he decided to keep his excursion as short as possible. There was nothing blooming in the gardens anymore, it being so late in the year, and dead leaves rustled underneath his feet as he walked to the shed at the very edge of the yard. Shed was perhaps not quite the right word. It was a sturdy little stone building without windows and with a heavy lock at the door. According to the previous caretaker's notes, the outrider had his own keys to the shed, and thus Daniel was not surprised to find it full of supplies.  
  
He wandered in the frosty garden, hunched over in the wind. Only dry, blackened stems jutting out from the cold earth indicated where there would be roses and hydrangeas come summer. Climbing the wall were the shrivelled remains of ivy. He walked around the entire castle, checking the rest of the buildings as he went, but finding little of use. Two of the buildings had nothing but walls remaining, and another had its door and windows missing. At the far end of the garden, close to the edge of the woods, he spotted a small row of stones standing, and he decided to return indoors after taking a brief look at them.  
  
Upon closer inspection they turned out to be grave markers, roughly hewn of unpolished stone. He knelt down in front of them, trying to decipher the faded gravings. Moss had grown over the letters, making it hard to read.  
  
He walked from grave to grave, inspecting the markings. The most recent ones seemed to date back to the turn of the century, and Daniel wondered if these were the last members of the baron's family. The oldest graves were so weatherbeaten that he could not make out a single date or name, but he assumed they must have been from the early years of Brennenburg. He made a mental note to check whether the library had a family tree preserved somewhere.  
  
He wrapped the overcoat more tightly around himself and got up. The wind felt like knives against his cheeks. The drizzling rain made the grounds appear misty, and the frosty ground was quickly turning muddy. As he walked back towards the castle he decided to give the grave markers a proper clean-up once spring came. The final resting place of these people, whoever they had been, could not have been more depressing; the dark forest looming behind them and the only windowless corner of the castle turned towards them.  
  
The warmth inside the castle was comforting after the freezing rain, and Daniel took the stairs towards the right wing. He had been eager to visit the library ever since the baron had mentioned it. The doors along the corridor lay open, letting in beams of pale light. Dust particles danced slowly in the air. He peeked inside each room curiously. There were small parlours and studies with arm chairs facing the tall windows, a small dining room whose heavy velvet curtains were drawn, a drawing room that hosted an old piano, something that looked like a quest bedroom, and finally, a doorway that with the small brass sign 'Archives' on it. The door was ajar, and Daniel stepped in.  
  
He found himself in a long and narrow room with a high ceiling. The other wall had several large windows, facing the forest; on the opposite wall hung a large oil painting of a ship sailing the stormy seas. Between the painting and another door there was a heavy curtain drawn over something and he lifted it carefully, rousing a cloud of dust. Coughing, he saw that there was another mirror behind it. It was badly cracked, with pieces missing here and there, and he let the curtain drop back down.  
  
”What a bloody shame,” he muttered. ”But at least it's not quite as handsome as mine” There wasn't much that could be done to fix the mirror unless you replaced the glass entirely, but he doubted they had the necessary supplies in storage. He would probably have to give it to one of their suppliers to take back to town and get fixed there.  
  
The door next to lead into a spacious room whose walls were lined with tall bookshelves, reaching almost all the way to the ceiling. He lit up the lantern hanging next to the door, turned around and no longer knew where to look. Daniel ran his fingers longingly over the spines of the countless books; many of them were in German, but he could also find plenty in Latin, French and English. A quick glance around the room told him baron Alexander was meticulous to the extreme with his collection. Not only was the room without a pinch of dust, everything was arranged close to perfection by topic, author and title. He could not hold back his smile – this man clearly appreciated his books just as much as Daniel appreciated his, and it pleased him. At least they would have something in common.  
  
He could not tear his eyes off the shelves, and drank in everything he found. It dawned on him that his new employer was a very learned man if all these tomes were his and not just part of his inheritance. There were entire sections dedicated to human anatomy and biology, botany, linguistics, world history and fine arts. He even found a small shelf that comprised entirely of books about famous musicians and sheet music for the piano.  
  
”Amazing,” he breathed in awe. He pulled out books at random, flipped through them and sat down to read. Many of them were so old that he could hardly believe they were not falling apart. Someone had clearly been taking care of them lovingly. The print years in several went as far back as one hundred years, and the language in which they were written was so antiquated that he had trouble reading them. He remembered his old professor telling him the baron's family was famous for having had unusually many members who had reached a very high age, and he suddenly wondered just how old he was; certainly much older than any other person Daniel had ever met. He thought about Alexander as a boy, decades and decades ago, growing up and learning to read from these books, and he wondered how different the world had been in his youth. Whether he was sixty, seventy or eighty years old, he had grown up to a different world entirely than Daniel; as part of the nobility, he had seen wars begin and end, kings crowned and kings dethroned, borders on the map being rewritten.  
  
He closed the book, laying it down on his lap. He thought of the baron, and a sudden yearning to talk to him, to hear about his history, filled him. If only he knew when Alexander would awaken.  
  
A sudden draft made the shadows from the candlelight dance over the walls. Daniel gazed out of the window into the rainy grounds where small puddles were starting to form. His thoughts swirled around in his head, unfocused, and he stared into the vast nothingness over the treetops until the rain painted everything a pale, shapeless blur.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brennenburg in this fic has a different layout than the one in the game, though in my head it maintains a similar look in the interiors, just with a lighter colour palette. Brennenburg has kept some of the medieval-style architecture in its structures and especially in the underground layers (because most likely the castle that stood there originally was medieval) but has Renaissance influence in its interiors.
> 
> Incidentally, the Brennenburg I've imagined in my head is modeled after Castle Krapperup in the municipality of Höganäs, Scania, Sweden. Worth a visit if you ask me.
> 
> Updates coming soon!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'The crow, the cat, the bird and the bee  
> I'm sure they would agree  
> That my one is falling for tricks,  
> Smoke and mirrors playing your wit.'
> 
> Agnes Obel – Smoke & Mirrors

_October 1840  
  
_ It had been a pleasant surprise to find the cellar storage as well-supplied as he had been promised, and Daniel treated himself to smoked ham, potatoes and a full loaf of freshly baked bread. He was now glad that his mother had insisted he learn the basics of cooking if he was to be sent to university; he assumed she'd predicted he wouldn't be marrying anytime soon and had wanted to prevent him from starving to death in a student dorm in some dirty corner of London. His bread may not have been quite as mouth-wateringly good as hers nor his potato mash as smooth and creamy, but he managed. At least he'd never given himself a food poisoning.  
  
As he ate, he leafed through a small book he'd found in the library. He hadn't found the family tree he'd been searching for, but accounts on the history of the region and the castle were at least just as interesting. The first mentions of a baron residing in Brennenburg were from the 1670s. He guessed the title had since then been hereditary, and the family had lived in the castle ever since.  
  
After taking care of the dishes he extinguished the candles and closed the kitchen door after himself. The entrance hall was dark apart from the candelabras he'd lit previously. He climbed up the stairs slowly with the intention of retreating into his rooms for the bath he'd been supposed to take yesterday, when he saw light coming out from one of the parlours on the right wing corridor. He paused at the top of stairs, then decided to take a look.  
  
”Good evening, Lord Baron, sir.”  
  
Alexander looked up. He was sitting in an arm chair in front of one of the tall windows. Like Daniel, he seemed to have been reading – there was an entire pile of books stacked next to him.  
  
”Good evening, Daniel,” the baron answered. A fire was burning merrily in the fireplace and candles were lit on the window sills. It was undoubtedly a cozy room. ”I hope you have recovered from your long journey.”  
  
”I have,” he said and, as an after thought, bowed slightly. ”How was your rest, sir?”  
  
Alexander smiled, making the creases around his eyes deepen. ”Quite adequate, thank you. Why don't you sit down with me for a moment and share a glass of wine?”  
  
The younger man stared at him, taken aback. ”Is that quite appropriate, sir?”  
  
”If we are to live together just the two of us, we should get to know each other,” the baron said simply and indicated the seat in front of him. ”And I rarely have company.”  
  
Daniel hovered uncertainly at the threshold, but finally did as he was told and walked to where the baron was seated. He bowed again briefly before sitting down, and Alexander laughed.  
  
”Really, there is no need to be quite so formal with me,” he said, sounding amused. ”I am but a baron, Daniel, not the King of Prussia.”  
  
”If you say so, sir,” Daniel said, feeling himself flush. ”I do not wish to slight you with my manners.”  
  
”And you won't, I assure you. Would you like some wine? It gets dreadfully chilly in this castle during this time of the year.”  
  
”I would love some, thank you.”  
  
The baron lifted the bottle of wine standing on the small side table and poured generously in an empty glass. His own still had a small amount of the bottom, a dark red liquid that glistened in the candlelight. Alexander set the bottle down, picked up his glass and indicated Daniel follow his lead.  
  
”To your arrival,” he said, raising his glass in a toast. Daniel imitated him, and they both drank. The baron drained what remained of his drink. When he put down his glass, there was a faint red stain on his lips and a soft flush on his cheeks. There was another, empty bottle at his feet, which Daniel assumed he must have drained earlier.  
  
”I see you have found something interesting in the library,” Alexander said, pointing at the book he still had with him.  
  
”I wanted to read up on the history of this area,” the Englishman admitted. ”I do not know much about the region surrounding Altstadt.”  
  
”Ah, yes. I remember your letter of recommendation saying that you are an archaeologist, isn't that correct?”  
  
”Yes. I have always been most interested in history.”  
  
”A smart choice,” the baron said, inclining his head. ”Wise is the man who chooses to learn from history. I am quite learned in history myself, it being one of my fields of interest. If there is anything you would like to ask, please feel free to do so.”  
  
”I was curious about the castle itself,” Daniel said. The warmth of the wine felt encouraging in his chest, and he took another sip. ”From what I was able to tell, it said the original castle burned down before Brennenburg was built.”  
  
”That is correct. The castle was destroyed in a fire in 1667, if I recall correctly, and the rebuilding was initiated by my family some years later.”  
  
”Is that so? Does the current castle bear any resemblance to its predecessor?”  
  
”As far as I know, no,” Alexander said. ”No floorplans of the old castle remained after the fire, and I've understood my family wanted Brennenburg to be rebuilt in a more modern style.”  
  
”The Renaissance influences are easy to see in the interiors,” the younger man nodded. ”I've read the accounts regarding the barony of Brennenburg as they're explained in this book, but I wasn't sure how much of what I read I understood correctly. I don't read German as well as I speak it, I'm afraid.”  
  
”I'm sure you will learn swiftly, but don't feel frustrated if you have trouble understanding some of the books in my collections. Many of them are old and their language antiquated.” The baron leaned back in his chair, observing him intently. ”Your accent is remarkably mild for an Englishman, if you don't mind my saying so. I'm rather impressed.”  
  
Daniel let out a nervous laugh. ”You are too kind, sir. Most of what I know I've learned traveling and from my German-speaking colleagues from the university.”  
  
”You must learn languages easily, then. What other languages do you speak?”  
  
”Latin, French and Italian,” Daniel said. ”And a little bit of Arabic, after my latest expedition to Algeria.”  
  
”Impressive,” Alexander muttered, still not taking his eyes off the younger man. ”Quite impressive.”  
  
Not knowing how to respond, he opted for drinking the rest of his wine. It was sweeter than what he was used to, but warmed him all the same. The baron was still looking at him. Daniel wished he wouldn't – there was something intimidating about the man, something that made you feel like he could see right through you. Yet somehow, he could not make himself look away either.  
  
The baron lifted the wine bottle again. ”Would you like some more?”  
  
”No, thank you,” Daniel managed. He tried to smile politely, but it felt as though he had a lump in his throat, making it difficult to focus. ”Have you had dinner yet, sir? Would you like me to prepare you something?”  
  
”You are very kind, Daniel, but I've already fed. I prefer to take care of my own meals.”  
  
”In that case I think I'll turn in for the night. Thank you for the wine.”  
  
”Not at all,” the elder said. The dark stain still lingered on his lips. ”Thank you for joining me.”  
  
He looked away and it felt like a grip had loosened around Daniel's throat. He grabbed the book and left as quickly as he politely could.

* * *

  
In the following days he was glad of having grown up a carpenter's son. He may not have possessed the artistic streak his father had, but he didn't feel wrong-footed holding a hammer either, and his chairs did not wobble when sat on. It seemed his predecessor had managed to keep the more actively used quarters in relatively good condition – at least there were no rotten cupboards or tables in immediate danger of collapsing – so he targeted the neglected rooms in the left wing instead. Not all could be fixed with a new layer of paint or by replacing broken pieces, but he reconstructed what he could.  
  
At times, when the weather cleared up, he opened the tall windows in the library and let in the cool autumn air. The curtains fluttered in the breeze and he read, either sitting by the windows with a tray of tea, or walking around with a book in hand. The other library rooms were roomier than the first he'd discovered, and also messier. Daniel thought the baron must read there sometimes; there were separate sheets of paper and parchment lying around, unarranged books littering available surfaces and half-empty shelves. He took down the rest of the books, gave them a dusting, and put them back in the correct shelves. He rolled up the parchments and gently made the loose pages into neat stacks with thread, putting them in the desk drawers, and replaced burned stubs with new candles.  
  
Alexander seemed to appreciate this. The first time he walked in on him rearranging the library he simply stood on the doorstep, looking surprised. The sun had only just sunken below the horizon a few moments ago, and a soft glow still shone through the thin curtains. The younger man had not heard him approach and was worried he was going to be reprimanded for crossing some invisible line, but the baron looked around and smiled. ”You know, my study seems more alive like this. I see you've changed the curtains, too.”  
  
”Yes,” the Englishman said uncertainly. ”The red velvet was beautiful, but in rather poor condition. I'll arrange for a seamstress in town to have them fixed, but I'm afraid they might not make it for Christmas.”  
  
The baron lifted his hand as if to say it didn't matter. ”It snows early in these heights. Perhaps we should enjoy the paler colours and the light the snow brings. Velvet is beautiful, but it doesn't let in much light.”  
  
Daniel couldn't think of anything to say to this odd statement, so he merely nodded. Alexander gave his shoulder a pat as he passed by, smirking in a most satisfied manner, and the younger man felt pleased with his work. He bowed his way out of the room, leaving the baron alone for the night.

* * *

  
It was already pitch dark outside. His daily chores done, Daniel had retreated into the library to read again. He could feel himself becoming more weary these days; the daylight hours were fewer and night came early, and he could hardly blame Alexander for sleeping in.  
  
Someone clapped on his shoulder all of a sudden and Daniel started so badly he dropped the book on his lap.  
  
”I'm sorry to startle you so,” the baron said. He was bearing a tea tray, standing right by his shoulder. ”I thought you might want some refreshments.”  
  
”Oh, thank you, sir,” Daniel said, flustered. He quickly picked up the book and set it aside. ”This is too much. Will you join me for a cup?”  
  
”Thank you, but I've already enjoyed my evening tea,” he said and set the tray on an empty table. ”Another time, perhaps.”  
  
The baron looked more tired and haddark shadows under his eyes. Daniel thought it rude to mention it, so he simply accepted the tray without further ado. ”It smells wonderful. What sort of tea is it?”  
  
”A type of green tea. I know you English prefer black tea, but my acquaintances in Berlin introduced me to the practice of drinking milder teas in the evening.”  
  
”Is it meant to be drank without milk?”  
  
”Yes, as the Chinese do.”  
  
Daniel poured himself a cup and took a tentative sip. It was hot but not enough to burn, with a faint, flowery flavour. ”Very mild, but enjoyable. Could use a bit of sugar, though.”  
  
Alexander smiled. ”It's not forbidden to add some. It is not against the etiquette in Europe, at least.”  
  
”Quite true,” he replied and added a dash of sugar. It greatly improved the taste in his opinion, and he drank quietly for some time. He could hear the rustle of pages behind him and assumed the baron was reading something. The man moved so quietly that it was downright unnerving sometimes; Daniel had the impression that he tried to make more noise around him, just to avoid startling him unnecessarily.  
  
”Daniel?” the elder called after a while.  
  
”Yes, my Lord Baron?”  
  
Alexander held out a book expectantly. ”I'd like you to read to me.”  
  
”Excuse me?”  
  
”You told me that you have trouble reading German. If you read to me, I can help you improve.”  
  
Daniel took the book, blushing furiously. He had only ever read aloud to his little sister, and the baron was decades his senior. ”Right,” he stammered. ”It's very kind of you, sir, to offer your help.”  
  
Alexander sat down on an empty chair in front of him, crossing his legs and leaning back. He appeared to be quite enjoying himself. ”I hope you can forgive my choice of reading. I simply thought we should start with something simple.”  
  
Daniel frowned at the title. ” _Kinder- und Hausmärchen_? These are fairy tales?”  
  
”Yes. This collection of stories was published in 1812. I found it quite entertaining.”  
  
”I'm quite fond of fairy tales myself,” Daniel admitted, flipping the pages carefully. ”Where should I begin?”  
  
”Choose whichever tale you find interesting.”  
  
He thought of Hazel and wondered what she would have said. He opened a spread at random and cleared his throat. ” _Sneewittchen,_ ” he read, and the baron nodded. He found himself stumbling over words every now and then, but it came more naturally than he had expected. Alexander listened carefully and only corrected his spelling if he could not get something right after couple of tries. Daniel appreciated this – he found himself feeling less and less flustered the further he read, and the more he relaxed, the more he enjoyed it. It had been a long time since he'd read out loud to someone.  
  
”We can stop here for tonight,” Alexander said after he'd finished the tale. ”Your pronunciation is very good already, but you have a tendency to over-pronounce your r's. There is no need to put quite so much emphasis on them.”  
  
”Too many French lessons, sir,” Daniel said with a smile. ”But I'll do my best to improve.”  
  
”You needn't think too much about it, it's only a minor concern.”  
  
”Nevertheless, I'm grateful for your help, sir.”  
  
The baron seemed in no hurry to leave; he was resting his chin against his hand, looking quite comfortable. Daniel thought he looked even slighter than before, somehow – his cheeks looked hollower and they had lost their usual colour. The younger man couldn't help wondering whether he ate at all. So far, they hadn't dined together even once.  
  
”You are used to reading to someone, aren't you?” Alexander asked suddenly.  
  
”How can you tell?”  
  
”The way you use your voice. You're used to entertaining an audience,” he said.  
  
Daniel smiled. ”You're quite right, sir. I used to read to my younger sister all the time.”  
  
”You have a sister? How old is she?”  
  
”She would be sixteen now. She passed away last year.”  
  
”My condolences,” the baron breathed. He smiled sadly at Daniel. ”Were you close?”  
  
”Very,” he replied. ”She was my only sibling.”  
  
”I'm very sorry for bringing it up. It must be painful for you.”  
  
”It's alright. You couldn't have known.”  
  
He was uncomfortably aware that his eyes felt wet and he looked away on the pretext of pouring himself another cup of tea. Alexander was still watching him and wordlessly, he leaned forwards and pressed a handkerchief in the younger man's hand.  
  
”There is no shame in mourning, Daniel. You don't have to pretend for my sake that it doesn't hurt.”  
  
He dabbed his eyes quickly. ”She loved fairy tales,” he whispered, hating how hoarse his voice was.  
  
”Next time, we'll read something else.”  
  
”There is no need. I just wish it would stop being so painful.”  
  
”It never does,” Alexander said quietly. ”You just learn to live with it.”  
  
”Do you still mourn your wife, sir?”  
  
”Every day, Daniel, every single day. Our loved ones might have been gone for a lifetime, but we'll never truly stop missing them,” he said. ”Personal grief is not the same as a mourning suit – you cannot take it off at will.”  
  
”You're right,” Daniel agreed with a sigh. He felt weary all of a sudden, and he handed back the book to the baron. ”I'm sorry, sir, but I'm afraid I must retire for the night. I'm starting to feel tired.”  
  
”Nothing to apologise for, my friend. I must really get back to my studies before it gets too late,” Alexander said, and they both rose.  
  
He walked Daniel to the door and placed a hand on his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.  
  
”Have a good rest, Daniel.”  
  
”Thank you for your company, sir.”  
  
The baron closed the door and Daniel started walking slowly towards the left wing. He was still holding the handkerchief in his fist, but he felt a fresh thread of joy pooling somewhere underneath his sorrow.  
  
Friend. The baron had called him 'friend'.

* * *

  
_November 1840_  
  
He did not see much of the baron in the days that followed. The short days marched on towards winter, sunlit hours becoming fewer and fewer.  
  
Daniel's thoughts were as grim as the weather. He often thought that the baron could have very well died in his sleep and he wouldn't find out until weeks later unless he barged in to check.He simply didn't dare do it – the door leading to Alexander's private quarters was firmly shut everytime he walked past and the elder had made it explicitly clear that there should be no disturbances. As the castle was in no risk of burning to the ground nor were there foreign soldiers bashing down the gates, Daniel had no choice but to wait for either a real emergency or for his host to appear.  
  
He tried to make most of the short days by being outdoors as much as possible. When weather allowed it, Daniel brought furniture and other things in need of fixing to the tool shed and worked outside. Still, he could tell winter was approaching; he could tell he tired more easily these days. Sometimes, late at night when he was already laying down in his bed, he thought he heard the faint sound of a piano being played. The sound was slightly eerie at such a late hour, and so out of place in the castle's usual silence that once or twice it roused him from his sleep. But seeing as there were volumes of musical scores laying by the piano, he knew it wasn't the work of ghosts.  
  
It was nearly a week since he'd last seen the baron that he unearthed a large, slightly faded portrait of a beautiful woman from the storage. Along with several other paintings it had been carefully wrapped in cloth, leaning against the wall behind broken chairs and shelves, but it was in much better condition than the others. The frame was coming apart, one side badly splintered, but at least it was just the frame – the others had clearly been exposed to the elements, their canvases punctured or ripped or burned. But the portrait, it was still beautiful though not as vibrant as it must have been long ago. He considered attempting to restore it, but soon decided against it; it was much too cold and he feared the paint wouldn't dry properly in the castle's humidity. Instead he repaired the frame to his best ability, gave it a new layer of lacquer and hung the portrait at the far end of the library hall, where there was empty wallspace.  
  
Moving such a large picture had taken its time and getting it up even more, but Daniel was content. It was clear that the empty space had once belonged to a painting of some kind; there was a rectangular, faded spot in the wallpaper. He moved the tall candelabras closer and their light seemed to enhance the portrait, bringing out some of its lost colour.  
  
”Much better,” the young man mumbled to himself. The portrait certainly made the library hall look more welcoming, the woman on the canvas smiling serenely at the door.  
  
Suddenly, he heard the faint creaking of a door and turned expectantly towards the main door of the library. Though he heard no footsteps, he was certain someone else moved inside the castle and sure enough, Alexander entered the room a moment later. He was wearing a long cloak over his clothes. Daniel half-bowed, half-nodded at him, hands behind his back as he stood admiring the painting.  
  
”Good evening, Daniel,” the baron said. He looked as weary as ever, his visage so white he looked like a ghost.  
  
”Good evening, sir,” the Englishman replied. ”I haven't seen you in a few days. Did you rest well?”  
  
”Reasonably well, thank you. What have you been doing today?”  
  
Daniel smiled and nodded at the painting of the woman, her black locks gleaming in the candlelight. Alexander inhaled sharply and rushed forwards, his eyes on the portrait. Daniel followed.  
  
”My Lord Baron? Is everything alright?” he asked anxiously. The baron turned to look at him, and to his alarm, he saw the older man's eyes were wet.  
  
”Yes,” Alexander said softly. ”Thank you for bringing out her portrait, my friend.”  
  
That made his face feel a little warmer, and he tried to not look too pleased with himself.  
  
”Who is she?”  
  
”My late wife,” the baron said, looking back up at the portrait. The wide-eyed wonder on his face belonged to a much younger man, and Daniel felt like he was trespassing on something private. ”How did you repair the frame? It wasn't in the best of conditions the last time I saw the painting.”  
  
Daniel cleared his throat awkwardly. ”Well, my father is a carpenter, sir. He wished me to continue in his footsteps, so I picked up a thing or two from him.”  
  
”Good man.” The baron smiled and squeezed his shoulder appreciatively. ”This was a wonderful surprise.”  
  
”I'm glad it pleases you, sir.”  
  
”Now, perhaps you could assist me in carrying my trunk downstairs? My carriage should be here at any minute.”  
  
”Are you going somewhere, sir?” Daniel asked, taken aback.  
  
”I have business to attend to in Bremen,” he answered. ”I'll return in two weeks time.”  
  
”Will you be alright, journeying all by yourself?”  
  
”I have made this journey many times, Daniel. I will be fine.”  
  
Daniel couldn't see what could be achieved by arguing the point and simply gave up. The baron did not seem concerned in the least about his weakened condition, nor that he might require assistance on the way if he suddenly collapsed. The younger man did as he was told and carried the trunk carefully down the stone stairs and out through the main door. A carriage pulled by two horses already stood waiting in the courtyard. The rider jumped down upon seeing them and opened the carriage door.  
  
The baron turned to face the Englishman. ”You will be responsible for Brennenburg in my absence. Should any issues arise, you have my authority to act on my behalf.”  
  
Daniel nodded and lifted the trunk inside the carriage. The rider bowed, still holding the door, and Alexander climbed in. He looked much diminished from the day they had met for the first time, and Daniel wondered if he'd truly make it back in one piece. The thought felt like ice in the pit of his stomach.  
  
”Have a safe journey, sir,” he said as the rider climbed back up.  
  
”I shall. I will see you in two weeks.”  
  
The baron closed the door and almost immediately, the carriage lurched forwards. Daniel's eyes followed the carriage through the gates and the path towards the forest, until the darkness swallowed them and he returned inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- the word 'Renaissance' first appeared in English in the 1830s, so it is possible that by 1840 a man with Daniel's education and work background might use it in conversation with another learned person. Also, he refers to Alexander as a 'true Renaissance man' in one of his diary entries in the original game, so whether this expression is historically accurate or not I found it suitable within the context of this fic.
> 
> \- For the purposes of this story I'm assuming Alexander's title in German is actually Freiherr, which is translated as 'baron' in English but it's not, strictly speaking, exactly the same thing (note that both Freiherr and Baron were titles recognised in the kingdom of Prussia, but they have different origins). Freiherr, literally 'Free Lord', corresponds to baron in rank, and a Freiherr can be addressed as 'Baron' or 'Lord Baron' in social circumstances. The main difference between these two is that the lands of Free Lords, unlike those of other barons, were allodial instead of a fief. In other words, a Freiherr owned the rights to their lands without paying for it to an overlord in the form of services and feudal allegiance.
> 
> \- ”Kinder- und Hausmärchen” was the original German title of Grimms' Fairy Tales and it was indeed first published in 1812. 'Sneewittchen' was the original title for the tale of Snow White in the book – in modern German, it's written as Schneewittchen.
> 
> A/N: I had such fun with this chapter! It's nice to introduce the two to each other and set the pace. I'd really missed writing both Daniel and Alexander, this story feels like homecoming to me. I really look forward to releasing the next chapter, by the way, it's my favourite one so far and I'm very excited to see how you guys will react. But that's for next week!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'As the devil spoke we spilled out on the floor  
> And the pieces broke and the people wanted more  
> And the rugged wheel is turning another round'
> 
> Agnes Obel – Dorian

_December 1840_  
  
The courtyard had received its first thin layer of snow. It was fine and powdery, barely enough to cover the frozen brambles in the garden, but in the morning sunlight it became blinding. Daniel shivered. He was wearing more layers than usual and had even put on his finest, and only, winter coat, but he still felt chilled to the bone. It was much colder than what he was used to – London winters could be harsh, but it was simply the humidity and the constant breeze blowing from the Atlantic that made it so. Here, high over the treetops, the sea was only a memory but the sky felt closer than ever. At night, if there were no clouds, the starry sky seemed endless, an impossibly vast black canvas stretching overhead. Nights on the Algerian desert had felt quite similar, but the scope of his loneliness was something entirely different here. Knowing that he was the only living person within miles felt strangely comforting; he felt he finally had the space to mourn in peace.  
  
There was not much he could do from afar, but he kept a candle next to the portrait of Hazel. Sometimes, when he forgot himself, he would read something aloud from a book, only to remind himself that she could not hear him. It pained him to think he hadn't been there with her by her death bed. There wouldn't have been anything he could have done, but guilt wrenched his heart at the thought of her passing away all alone in the dead of the night without someone to at least hold her hand. Perhaps she had passed away peacefully in her sleep, just like the nurses said she'd done, but he knew it would have offered him greater comfort now had he been there to kiss her goodnight and sing her the nursery rhymes she'd remembered from her childhood. He would have combed her hair as he had taken into doing after she became too ill to leave the bed.  
  
It had been her dream to travel the world but when she fell ill, he had promised to fulfill her dream for her instead. Her eyes had shined when he had told her of the coming expedition in Algeria and she had told him to go even as he'd hesitated; not for all the world would she have blamed him for going, for not being there with her. Daniel guessed she might have even known her time was running out. But now, everytime he brought another book about history, folk tales or travel into his bedroom, he thought about how much she would have loved every single one of them, and he ached at the thought of how much she would have cherished the library in Brennenburg. She would have loved the castle and its large grounds; she would have dragged him into the forest mid-winter to explore all they could and gently teased him for finding the dark woods frightening.  
  
He felt her absence as surely as if he were missing a limb, as a hollow space somewhere in his chest he knew would never be filled again, but he cherished it all the same. It told him with utter surety that she had lived, she had existed, and it gave meaning to his grieving.  
  
Standing in the garden on a morning like this felt like he was seeing the world clearly for the first time. The valleys below were as though coated in sugar. Somewhere far away, a river glittered like a dark satin ribbon. He didn't know the names of the villages and farms he could see from up there, but it didn't matter. They felt so distant that they could have been on the other side of the moon.  
  
He wondered what would happen if the baron never returned and the outrider came with the news of his passing one of these days; surely, he, Daniel, would have to return to London. The thought pained him. The castle did not quite feel like home, that much he could admit to himself, but going back to his old life seemed impossible now. He felt guilty for neglecting his parents, being their only son and now, their only child, but he could not bring himself to face them. He knew he ought to write to them and ask them how they'd been, but the thought just pushed his will to do even further away. Hazel had been the only member of his family he had felt close to; it was as though his only remaining link to his family had died with her. There was nothing to say to them, nothing that would have melted away the awkwardness and wall that had grown between them over the years.  
  
Herbert had talked about marrying and settling down, starting a family of his own. Daniel smiled sadly. He knew his professor and colleague had meant well. Herbert had a knack for worrying about the people around him and he had simply wanted Daniel to stop being alone so much. But he could not imagine marrying any unsuspecting girl and making her a part of the disaster that was his family. No one deserved that. And he did not know if he could have been a better father than his own had been – he feared becoming like him, stoic and controlling, and passing on his unhappiness to innocent children. He doubted he would have proposed had he ever fallen in love with someone.  
  
”I could help you out if you're not sure where to start. Send some letters, ask around. A friend of mine in France has a daughter, you know, a real charming lady,” Herbert had suggested hopefully on one late evening in their camp in Algeria.  
  
”Thank you, professor,” he'd replied. ”But it's fine. Really, it is.”  
  
Herbert had sighed. ”You're a good lad, Daniel. You deserve to be happy; just keep that in mind.”  
  
He walked over to the old grave markers, frozen leaves rustling and cracking underneath his feet. There wasn't much to go with this late in the year, but he had collected evergreen branches and pine cones from the edge of the forest and made them into simple arrangements with ribbons and bells and small decorations he'd found in the storage. Those now lay in front of each grave stone.  
  
He guessed the baron's wife rested here, too, and he wished he knew which one was hers. She had been the mistress of this castle once and he would've liked to make her arrangement a bit fancier than the rest in her honour. He wondered what she had been like. Clearly, Alexander had loved her very much. The graves were all in such condition that he guessed she must have died very young, and the thought felt like a stab in his gut. To keep on living after losing a loved one was said to be torment, and he knew that to be true after losing his only sibling, but to live decades and decades after your spouse has died? The sadness of it was so great he thought it would encompass everything, and he didn't question why the baron lead such a reclusive lifestyle; perhaps having others around was just too much for him to bear.  
  
To Herbert, at least, he had written after settling down in Brennenburg. The young man felt he owed it to his old professor – at least one of his suggestions had been suitable. Happiness was such a frail thing, he thought. Making yourself vulnerable in order to gain something you could lose in the blink of an eye was a frightening idea, and he could not say he wanted it. But was he unhappy? He could not say that either. There was something soothing in this predictable day to day schedule he managed, and it felt welcoming and safe in the same way as dozing off in a sunlit garden did.  
  
Slowly, he left the lonely burial ground and made his way towards the castle. The snow made the red brick walls look oddly bright, like they had been dipped in blood. He shook his head at this distasteful image. The bloodiest piece of history he had managed to find about the barony had been the dungeon the castle cellar had served as before and he supposed it had been necessary. The area was so remote the baron held the highest title around, and with it came responsibilities usually reserved for higher nobility.  
  
”I hope Alexander returns soon,” he said to himself. Much as Daniel found the older man intimidating, he was his sole anchor to the castle and to his position there. It made him proud to see his efforts at making the castle look more cared for were appreciated, feeble though they were. There was only so much one person could do alone.  
  
The baron had been gone for fifteen days now, and Yuletide would soon be upon them. Traveling at this time of the year seemed strange to him – if it snowed more in the coming days, he might not make it back to the castle before spring. A local farmer from had come at the turn of the month with his delivery, the outrider with him with letters to Alexander. Daniel had sent the old velvet curtains with them to the town seamstress – Gabriel had promised to send them back with the other supplies once spring arrived in the mountains. The path to Brennenburg was treacherous at best and the farmer had been doubtful whether or not they would be able to bring in more food at the end of December if it snowed more, and the last delivery had been bigger than what stood in the contract.  
  
”We put in extra sacks of potatoes, carrots and turnips just in case, and some more flour, too,” the farmer had said as Daniel had helped him unload the wagon. ”Last year it snowed so much that we couldn't get the wagon up here until February and had to send in emergency supplies on horseback.”  
  
The supplies would not make for the most luxurious Christmas meal, but Daniel didn't really mind it too much. He could not call himself the most devout of men, something his parents probably thought scandalous, and was quite pleased he would not have to put up much of a pretense this year. He wouldn't mind preparing a feast if the baron wanted one, however. He seemed like the sort of man to whom faith was a private matter, and the young man wasn't one to protest against that.  
  
If only he would return. That was all he asked.

* * *

Another day came and went without the carriage returning. He drew the curtains against the bitter cold and lit the great fireplace in the entrance hall so the baron would not have to return to a chilly castle, but there was little he could do otherwise. He could stare out of the windows as much as he liked, but no rider, no carriage materialised from the woods.  
  
By midday, it had began to snow again, and the world outside was lost from view. Thick, white flurries like cotton floated slowly towards the ground. Feeling defeated, he made himself a pot of tea and returned to the library to wait.  
  
The day turned to night, and another pale morning came. Frost covered the window panes like cold white ivy, and the trees were heavy with snow.  
  
”Seventeen days now,” Daniel sighed. The baron was delayed, and he wondered how bad the weather was on the road to Bremen. Perhaps winds from the north had brought clouds with them across the Baltic Sea and coated the coastal towns in snow.  
  
He sat on the window sill with a book on his lap, but he couldn't take in a word of it. He found himself staring out into the whiteness and trying to see if there was movement between the trees. Once or twice he started and got to his feet anxiously, but sat back down upon realising the snow was playing tricks on his eyes. He wished he had someone to talk to, but his only correspondence beyond the baron were his old colleagues in London and he knew he wouldn't receive any replies to his letters until spring.  
  
The clouds broke apart and after dusk the temperature dropped so low Daniel withdrew to his chambers early. He could feel the cold seeping through the windows in his room and tossed in more logs to the fireplace to keep the fire going as far into the night as possible. He thought longingly of a hot bath before turning in for the night, but knew it wasn't a good idea; too much bathing in the winter time would only ensure he'd catch a cold or worse, pneumonia. He took an extra quilt from the wardrobe, unfolded it on top of his usual one and slipped into bed. The warmth of the bed and the fire ensured that he was asleep within minutes.  
  
The dark was creeping in on him from all sides. Snow fell, heavy and demanding, and it seemed to lock him in place. He could not move anywhere; it was as though his feet were frozen to the ground or had become roots, so deep in the sleeping earth that all he could do was stand where he was. It was so dark, but so white. Snow, everywhere he looked. He felt somehow diminished, but the dark was unrelenting. It pushed against him ceaselessly and he crumbled, fell to his knees and made himself as small as possible. But it was still not enough. Snow continued falling on top of him in heavy layers but it could not muffle the music in his ears, music that sounded like the crying of wolves, and in the darkness, gleaming eyes watched him silently.  
  
Daniel gasped, blinked, and the snow was gone. He turned his head slowly and recognised the four-poster bed with its drapings. He must have been asleep for several hours – he could just see the moon peeking through the gap between the curtains, and the embers in the fireplace were still glowing. At first he couldn't tell what had woken him up. It was now blissfully warm in the room and his body was pleasantly relaxed. He gave his legs a wiggle – they weren't rooted to anything.  
  
He felt relief was over him, only to feel ridiculous right afterwards.There was no snow indoors, no wolves, no presence watching him struggle. He closed his eyes and rolled on to his side, determined to go back to sleep. The wolf song was gone but something else kept nudging at his sleepy consciousness, something he had not managed to shake off his stubborn brain...  
  
He nuzzled his pillow sleepily. In the darkness, the music played on.  
  
Daniel sat up immediately, listening. It was faint, yes, but it was there; the piano. A sign that he was not alone in the castle. He jumped down from the bed, pushed his feet into slippers and pulled on a dressing gown over his night clothes.  
  
”Come on, I know I had a tinderbox somewhere,” he muttered underneath his breath, fumbling through the drawers until he found what he wanted. He hastily lit a candle, grabbed the candle stick and edged out of the room, careful to close the door after himself. It was much colder outside of his quarters and he could barely keep his teeth from chattering. He considered, briefly, returning to bed and waiting until the next day to see if the baron had truly returned, but he knew it was pointless – if he found out it had all been a figment of his imagination, he would rather do so now than in the morning.  
  
Fire still burned faintly in the fireplace when he reached the entrance hall. He door to the right wing stood open and he could hear the music clearly now. The notes flowed smoothly and something in his chest eased, like a knot coming undone.  
  
”Good evening, sir. I do hope your journey was alright?”  
  
Alexander looked up. He didn't look particularly surprised to see Daniel at the threshold. His long traveling cloak was draped over an empty chair. The melting snow had formed a tiny puddle on the floor.  
  
”Good evening, Daniel. Forgive me, I must have awoken you with my playing,” the baron said, nodding apologetically.  
  
”No, not at all,” the Englishman hurried to say. He stepped into the room and set down the candle stick. ”I'm very sorry that I wasn't there to greet you properly upon your return. I admit to having felt tired earlier than usual.”  
  
Alexander smiled and firelight danced in his eyes. The younger man felt the familiar sense of being locked in place as their eyes met briefly, and it robbed him of his breath.  
  
”There is no need to apologise. I was delayed beyond my wildest expectations; as you may have noticed, the weather has taken a turn for the worse. Reaching the castle in the dead of winter is challenging, to say the least.”  
  
”I believe that, sir. You must be tired.” He was uncomfortably conscious about being dressed only in his night clothes and a dressing gown.  
  
”Not really. I find myself quite invigorated after my journey,” the baron said, getting up. He looked that, too, Daniel thought. The man who had left the castle had seemed tired, even frail, but now, Alexander seemed at the height of his health. He stood straight-backed and there was a healthy glow upon his visage – he seemed to radiate power in the same way he had the first time they'd met.  
  
”There's nothing like travel and a bit of sea air, is there?”  
  
”And pleasurable company,” Alexander added with a smile that revealed his teeth. Daniel laughed nervously. The baron pulled another chair closer to the piano and gestured at it. ”If you're not too tired, would you grant me the pleasure of _your_ company for a time?”  
  
”I would not want to trespass on your privacy after such a long journey...”  
  
”I assure you, you're not trespassing.” Alexander laid a hand on his back and gave him a gentle push. ”Please, take a seat.”  
  
”As you wish, sir,” he said and sat down. He could still feel the heat of the elder man's hand radiating through his dressing gown.  
  
Alexander took out a wine bottle from a small cabinet and poured generously into a glass. He offered the glass to the younger man and sat back down in front of the piano. He shook back his long sleeves and resumed his playing with a slow, morose melody. ”A drink to keep you warm on such a chilly night,” he said, and Daniel took a sip.  
  
”Don't you want any, sir?”  
  
”Oh, no,” he said. ”I already had a drink or two upon my arrival. One should not indulge too much in the delights of wine, no matter how great the temptation is.”  
  
”You are quite right, of course.” He had never been overly fond of wine, but the baron had a point. He felt its warmth pooling down at the bottom of his stomach and reaching towards his freezing toes, and he was grateful for his host's thoughtfulness. ”How did your journey go, if you don't mind my asking?”  
  
”It is always a joy to visit Bremen, though the road is long,” Alexander mused. He seemed to be playing by ear, quite uninterrupted by the discussion. ”I always make sure to attend a concert or two, no matter what the true reason behind my visit is. I am, as you may have understood, a great lover of music, and these rare occasions are my best chance to enjoy the newest compositions.”  
  
”And the true reason behind your visit, sir, what was it?”  
  
”Dining with very old friends,” the baron said with a smirk. ”I hold the title of knight in the Order of the Black Eagle, and though I am much too old now to truly be of much use to the crown, it is still my duty to keep in touch with the tidings of the country.”  
  
”I did not know you were in the Order, sir,” Daniel whispered in revered tones. ”That is a great honour indeed.”  
  
”You make it sound more interesting than it truly is,” the baron said, seeming amused. ”It is nothing but old men discussing politics, and once you have seen as much of the world as I have, you will notice there is little change and much repetition in the discussion. It becomes weary in the long run.”  
  
”Still, it must be exciting, getting to meet all those important men. Even his majesty, king William IV, was a member, as I remember.”  
  
”Yes, he was. I was sorry to hear of his passing.”  
  
”And king Frederick William III? Did you ever meet him, sir?” Daniel asked enthusiastically.  
  
”I had the honour of meeting the late king, yes,” the elder answered. He beheld the Englishman curiously. ”I did not know you were so interested in our politics.”  
  
”Perhaps not quite as much as I should, sir, but there has always been much turmoil in Europe – too much for it to go unnoticed even if one does not focus on keeping an eye on it.”  
  
”You're right in that,” Alexander said with a little sigh. ”I have seen much unrest in my life, Daniel. Prussia has suffered enormously during my time as a baron and I regret to say it is, for the most part, the common folk who have had to bear the burden. It becomes wearying to watch it from the sidelines without true power to affect the outcome.”  
  
”But sir, you're a knight—”  
  
”A knight is no more than an honorary title in the Order for those of us who are not of royal blood; with it comes no real power. Real power belongs to the house of Hohenzollern, and the rest of us stand in costume to bear witness to their ceremonies. It is a great honour to be knighted, I don't deny that, but as a baron I have very little power to influence the kingdom in the way the princes of the royal house do.”  
  
Daniel frowned. ”But surely, they would not place knighthood upon men for no reason? Aren't there great politicians and high-ranking soldiers amongst the knights of the Order as well?”  
  
”There are those who have served our country through their deeds in the battlefield and those rewarded for their service in the politics, but dare we oppose the king and his kin even if we disagree with their decisions? Do you not think that would be seen as treason?”  
  
”I should rather see it as an act of service for your homeland,” the younger man said, but he sounded uncertain. Alexander shook his head.  
  
”I'd rather see it as such, too, but our heads of state cannot be expected to share our views.” There was such an edge of bitterness in his voice that Daniel gaped with his mouth half-open, wine glass frozen mid-air. Alexander sighed again and ceased his playing. ”Pay no attention to my words, Daniel. I am merely an old man who has seen too much; it sometimes clouds my judgment.”  
  
”No, no,” he intervened hastily. He set down his glass. ”I agree with you, sir, I truly do. I was simply surprised.”  
  
”Surprised that our views would be so similar?” the baron asked sharply, leaning towards him. ”Or that I should so willingly voice my displeasure with the royal house?”  
  
”A bit of both, to be honest.”  
  
He was afraid he'd overstepped his boundaries. Tonight, there was nothing frail about the baron of Brennenburg; his back was not bent but proud and straight, and his hands were not thin but as strong as those of a much younger man's. His thin face looked haughty in the flickering shadows and his eyes were startlingly amber, like liquid fire. Surely even the princes of the royal house would quiver and bow down in respect if they saw him like this, Daniel thought. Not even the devil himself could have eyes like that.  
  
”I'd prefer if none of this were repeated outside of these walls,” Alexander said, his eyes boring into Daniel's. ”I don't want the word out that I am questioning my king's politics.”  
  
”Of course, sir. I promise you, all that is discussed between us is strictly confidential,” the younger man agreed. The baron had not raised his voice yet his gaze was demanding, scorching. Daniel felt unnerved and wished he would soon be dismissed.  
  
He reached for his glass and lifted it towards his lips but it slipped from his shaking hand and shattered on the floor.  
  
”I am so sorry, sir!” he gasped, pulling out a handkerchief from his pocket. He knelt down, trying to sweep the pieces into a pile. ”I'll clean that up immediately!”  
  
Alexander scrambled to his feet. ”You don't need to—”  
  
”It's fine, sir— ouch!”  
  
A piece of glass had torn through the handkerchief and cut into the palm of his hand. The red stain on the fabric was spreading quickly and Daniel grimaced, pulling out the shard and tossing it on the floor. The cut did not seem deep but it was bleeding profusely, and he felt sickened.  
  
”Let me look at it, Daniel—”  
  
”There's no need, sir, I'm fine—”  
  
”You're hurt,” the baron said sternly and pulled him to his feet. ”Let me take a look.”  
  
There was no arguing with him. The baron grabbed his wrist roughly and uncurled the younger man's fingers to inspect the wound. Blood dripped down towards his wrist still and stained Alexander's fingers. The baron seemed petrified; Daniel could feel his hand shaking. Then, suddenly, he bent forwards and brought the cut to his mouth. All Daniel could do was watch, frozen, as the baron licked away the blood, eyes closed as though in enjoyment. The wound stung worse than ever but Alexander did not pull back, and the younger man inhaled sharply, feeling of horror crawling up his back.  
  
He yanked back his hand from the baron's grip and tried to step away from him, but his legs felt weak, boneless. Alexander was staring at him with red eyes, blood staining his lips and his chin. Daniel watched, transfixed, as his expression darkened, and the younger man fumbled backwards as fast as his disobedient legs let him.  
  
”What are you?” he whispered hoarsely, clutching his bleeding hand. The baron closed his eyes, hands balled into fists.  
  
”Go now,” he growled between gritted teeth. ”Go!”  
  
With one last look at the baron, Daniel fled. He slammed doors after himself – anything to put as many barriers between them as possible – and his mind raced wildly. He bolted the door to his quarters, not truly believing it could keep out whatever the monster in the parlour was, and collapsed on the floor. He barely allowed himself to breathe as he strained to listen to the sound of footsteps, but there were none, none at all.  
  
His head was swimming and the wound stung still. There was blood all over his hands and his sleeves, and he barely made it to the bathroom before he vomited on the floor. All he could was pour water from the pitcher and wash it down the drain before the stink became too much. Shaking, he tore his clothes off, tossed them into the corner and climbed in the bathtub.Thought the water was so cold he felt goosebumps all over his body, he washed the sweat and blood off his skin. He cleaned the wound as best as he could and wrapped it tightly with linen strips. His skin was white as a sheet when he climbed out of the tub, and he stumbled into the bedroom as quickly as he could.  
  
The heat in the bedroom was bliss and he all but groaned in relief. He knew he should have looked for another night shirt but he merely clambered beneath the duvets, laid down and tried to calm down his racing heart.  
  
”What monster is he?” Daniel whispered to the darkness. He cradled his injured hand to his chest and his heart hammered wildly. He heard no footfalls, no creaking doors, but he imagined the shape of a man with burning eyes staring at him from the dark corners of the room.  
  
”The devil,” he answered himself.  
  
There would be no sleep that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some historical notations:  
> \- King William IV was king of the United Kingdom from 1830 to 1837, so Daniel should remember him quite well. Interestingly, he was indeed a Knight in the Order of the Black Eagle along with some other foreign royalty.
> 
> \- For the sake of consistency I've chosen to use the English forms of the names of Prussian kings and other royalty, despite Daniel and Alexander speaking in German to one another (since the story is in English and intended mainly for the English-speaking audience). The name of Frederick William III is Friedrich Wilhelm III in German, and he was king of Prussia from November 1797 to his death in June 1840.
> 
> \- My description of the Order of the Black Eagle paints a rather bleak picture of its members and their importance but it's meant to illustrate Alexander's feelings on the matter rather than making a historically accurate portrayal. Baron is the second lowest titled rank within nobility, and as such he actually has very little power, knight or not.
> 
> A/N: Oh man, a new chapter! I'm really excited about this one, guys, I've been waiting to get this one out. We're jumping right into action. Also, thank you so much for all the kudos and comments so far! It's encouraging to see the fandom isn't entirely dead. ^^ Let me know what you thought about this chapter, and see you next week! My current update schedule is one chapter a week, by the way, so you should see the weekly update sometime between Monday and Friday depending on how busy I am with other stuff.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'I am in love and I am lost  
> But I'd rather be broken than empty  
> Oh, I'd rather be shattered than hollow.'
> 
> Shattered & Hollow – First Aid Kit

_December 1840_  
  
When he crept into the parlour the next morning, he vaguely hoped it would all turn out to be just a wicked nightmare. His prayers went unheard – the shattered glass on the floor said as much. There were stains of wine and blood on the carpet and across the oaken floor. The candle stick he'd left there still stood on the table, the candle melted into a useless stub.  
  
He had laid awake in his bed until the faint glow in the horizon had announced the arrival of another day. Then, and only then, had he dared to close his eyes and risk a few hours of sleep. His dreams had been troubled, full of shadowy figures and bloated, hungry corpses that tried to grab his limbs, and he had been glad to finally leave the bed.  
  
Daniel walked around the room gingerly. A bottle of wine had been flung across the room and it had smashed against a wall, leaving a great stain on the wallpaper. Without knowing what else to do, he cleaned up the mess to his best ability, careful not to hurt himself again. It troubled him that Alexander had not pursued him after telling him to leave – he had expected the man, the demon, the devil, whatever he was, to tear down his door and rip open his throat for good measure. Why had he told him to go? Why not just kill him right there and then?  
  
No matter how much he thought about it, no answer came to him. He stared out into the grounds and towards the snowy woods and wondered if he should make a run for it, leave the castle. He might not make it very far in this weather and come spring, his emanciated corpse would be discovered by unsuspecting farmers coming to bring their deliveries to Brennenburg. He shook his head at the thought. It made no sense to remain in the castle, but it made even less sense to leave. Had the baron wanted to kill him, he wouldn't have bothered letting the outrider and every villager in Altstadt know he had hired a new servant, one who had come all the way from England.  
  
He didn't really know what to fear from the baron – death, or something worse? He could not be human, there was no way. He had seen the fury of hell itself in that man's eyes. Daniel thought back on the empty castle, his lonely meals, of the baron remaining locked up in his private quarters all day, and wondered if this was the reason for his isolation. To guard his secret.  
  
The vision of Alexander drinking from his bleeding wound still drew shudders from the Englishman. He had never seen anything like that. He knew of tales of blood sucking beasts and supernatural creatures, but he'd never believed any of them to be more than a bunch of nonsense, meant to put the fear of God in people's hearts.  
  
There were stories of the dead coming back to feast on the living, draining their bodies until they withered, and the dead ones' bodies becoming strong, fat and ruddy in turn. He felt sick at the very thought. But the baron seemed _alive_ – or at least he did when he was well-rested. This gave Daniel a pause. He'd assumed the baron was ill when colour had faded from his skin and he became thinner, day by day, but Daniel had never seen him eat anything. He'd seen the man holding a wine glass and with empty bottles next to him in the parlour, but there was no evidence what had been in his glass had been wine. He remembered Alexander's red-stained lips, and he had to lean against the wall for support.  
  
”It must have been blood,” he whispered. His stomach roiled again and he closed his eyes, trying to think of something else. He'd barely managed to eat anything for breakfast, afraid he'd vomit again.  
  
Daniel slid slowly on the floor. He held his head between his hands, but his thoughts were an unfocused mess. He knew he should be halfway towards the village by now; knew he should at least be trying to escape, to alert the villagers, but the more he thought about it the less he wanted it. Escape would mean having to leave the castle for good. Perhaps it would have brought him to safety. But...  
  
”He called me his 'friend',” he groaned. His heart felt heavy and he slammed his fist against the floor in frustration.  
  
He had started thinking of Brennenburg as his home. Lonely though it was and cold and falling apart stone by stone, he'd felt like he was slowly regaining his senses there. The alternative was fleeing to London and going back to his old life; he knew professor Herbert would put up a good word for him and pull some ropes to guarantee him his old position back.  
  
But for that to happen, he would have to leave.

”I can't.”  
  
_I won't.  
  
_ ”I can't leave.”  
  
_I won't leave._

”I just can't go back now.”

 _I won't go back no matter what.  
  
_ He slumped against the wall, head lolling back. A faint beam of light shone through the windows. Dust particles danced in the air, and he could nearly fool himself into seeing them as fireflies.  
  
”I have to stay.”  
  
_I don't want to leave_ , Daniel thought desperately. It would all be so exhausting now; to return to London, return to the society, to explain to friends and colleagues why he'd come back, to face his parents again… The very idea rested heavily on his shoulders, like the weight of an entire mountain pushing him down to the ground.  
  
And if he came to harm, so what? He'd get to see Hazel again.  
  
The image of her face filled his mind, and it was as though someone had driven a knife into his heart. He hadn't cried once, not even standing upon her grave, but something dislodged deep within his chest and broke free.  
  
”Oh sister dear, how I miss you,” he choked out. Tears ran down his cheeks and blurred his vision, and he didn't try to stop them. What grief he felt was his and his alone – it wasn't for anyone else to judge or to tell him when he was done mourning. And suddenly, he understood what Alexander had meant.  
  
_You cannot take it off at will._  
  
Whatever demon the baron was, he had understood what no one else had.  
  
He sat there for a long time and let the tears fall uninterrupted and slowly, slowly, his breathing eased, the grip on his chest loosened and let go. He pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket and blew his nose.  
  
”No one can decide what I need to do but me,” he told himself firmly. He got up somewhat clumsily, legs stiff from sitting on the cold floor. He still wasn't sure if it was wise to remain in Brennenburg; the only thing he could be entirely sure of was that he had no desire to return to England.  
  
He just needed to know one more thing.  


* * *

  
Daniel tore down the stairs and towards the door leading to the cellar. He'd taken a torch down from the wall and it blazed brightly. He had never thought of defying the order not to enter the cellar, but something told him it held the answers he sought – at least some of them. The padlock opened easily and he pushed the door open. It creaked and complained, as though no one had entered there for an eternity. The corridor beyond was dark like the mouth of hell, but Daniel mustered his courage and entered, torch held high.  
  
The air was damp and cold, much colder than the air in the upper floors. In front of him spread the long corridor, black as night. There were no torches in the brackets, and further down the corridor he could just make out what must be the remains of a collapsed wall – it had spilled stones and earth all over the floor. He swallowed back his nervousness and set forward.  
  
When he approached the collapse, he noticed something peeking out under the dust and earth. He bent down, pulled it free, and saw that it was a brass sign, like the one by the library.  
  
”Wine cellar,” he read the faded letters. He put the sign back down. ”So they did have a brewery here.”  
  
Opposite the collapsed area was an open doorway and he entered, finding a small storage room with shelves crammed full of bottles. Many of them were very dusty; the liquid inside them glistened dully in the torchlight. He picked up bottles at random, examining the labels. 1698. 1725. 1786. The oldest year he could find was 1682. It seemed Alexander had salvaged some of his wines before the collapse had wiped out the actual wine cellar.  
  
Some of the bottles had been leaking, and his hands felt sticky. Daniel licked his finger carefully. ”Red wine,” he muttered.  
  
He moved on to another shelf on the other side of the room. Some of the bottles there were without labels, some were empty, and some shattered; broken glass crunched underneath his soles as he moved. He took one of the unlabeled bottles, wrenched it open and poured a few drops onto his waiting palm. It was thicker and stickier and smelled bad, and his stomach recoiled in response. He tasted it very gingerly with the tip of his tongue and spat.  
  
Blood.  
  
”Lord almighty,” he whispered and put the bottle back hastily.

He left the wine room and continued down the hallway, stepping as lightly as he could. It was eerie down there. The perfect silence of the place seemed to press against his eardrums and fill his head with the beating of his own heart, until he nearly believed it was someone else's. The heavy stone walls glistened with moisture, and the corridor suddenly opened into a large chamber. In the middle, there was an old well. Above him, the smallest beam of pale light indicated there had been a hatch of some kind in the ceiling, but it seemed to be blocked now. The shadows fled from the torchlight, lighting up the small cubicles lining the chamber. 

”Cells,” Daniel muttered to himself. Sure enough, there had been a dungeon beneath the castle, just like the baron had said. He lifted the torch higher, going from cell to cell. Dirty, torn old linens littered the floors. One of the cells still had the broken remains of an old bed frame pushed into one corner. Most were empty, some still occupied if bones counted.  
  
He examined the remains carefully, trying to push back his disgust. He did not know exactly when the dungeon had gone out of use officially, but not all the bones were quite as old as he'd expected.  
  
”May God have mercy on your souls,” he said quietly, backing out of the cell. It was the most horrible final resting place he'd seen, and he couldn't imagine the souls of those who'd died there ever finding peace.  
  
With a repulsed shake of his head he got up, left and locked the door firmly behind him; he never wished to go down there again if it could be helped. All he could hope for was that an eventual collapse would swallow the rest of that accursed place and eradicate it from all but memory.  


* * *

  
The setting sun painted the snow a brilliant carmine. Daniel stood knee-deep in snow, his breath coming out in white clouds. His toes felt like they'd never be warm again. He had been walking around the grounds in restless circles for what felt like hours and only here, under the darkening sky, he felt clear-headed. The biting wind had a sobering effect like no other.  
  
Slowly, the sunset faded into night and the first stars appeared. He went around the graves, brushed snow off his homemade decorations and watched quietly as the tall figure of Alexander slowly made its way towards him. The baron may have moved like a shadow but the snow crunching beneath his feet betrayed his presence. Somehow, this amused Daniel, and he fought to keep his expression neutral.  
  
”What are you still doing here?” the baron hissed when he reached him.  
  
”I was thinking of planting some flowers on the graves,” Daniel said.  
  
”What?”  
  
”Once it's spring, of course.”  
  
”Have you gone mad? Aren't you afraid of me?”  
  
The Englishman considered this for a long while, then shook his head. ”No.”  
  
”Then you are a fool,” Alexander said, but he sounded sceptical. ”I told you to go.”  
  
”And I did. I went into my room,” Daniel replied. ”And with all due respect, sir, I am no fool.”  
  
”Forgive me, but I'm finding your blatant disregard for your own safety, for the lack of a better word, quite _foolish_.”  
  
”I _was_ afraid, at first. Really afraid,” he said with a shrug. ”But there's no leaving this castle mid-winter. Not to mention we have a contract. I signed it – we both did – and I intend to carry it out.”  
  
”You worry about contracts when—”  
  
”And moreover,” Daniel interrupted, speaking louder. ”If you wanted to kill me, you had plenty of opportunities before, but you didn't.”  
  
Alexander glared at him suspiciously and the younger man stared calmly back. For once, looking into the baron's eyes did not seem to affect him – the charm was gone, and he wondered if it was simply because he was privy to his secret now.  
  
”I lost control,” the baron said eventually with the air of one confessing something outrageous. ”I wasn't going to reveal myself to you at all.”  
  
”What are you?”  
  
”You don't know?”  
  
”A blood-drinker.”  
  
Alexander clicked his tongue, shaking his head in disbelief. ”I think the word is 'vampyre', Daniel.”  
  
”I thought they were just superstition. A myth, if you will.”  
  
”I thought so too, until I was turned into one.”  
  
”How does one become a vampyre?” Daniel asked. The word felt odd, clumsy, in his mouth, yet he couldn't help being at least a bit curious.  
  
”You are forgetting your manners,” Alexander said, setting off towards the castle. Daniel followed suit.  
  
”Fine, don't tell me then, _Lord Baron,_ ” he huffed. The baron was taller than him and he had to take longer strides to keep up with him. ”But I will remain in Brennenburg.”  
  
”Why must you insist on this?”  
  
Alexander stood on the doorway, holding the door open for him and he entered, quite grateful to be back indoors. He kicked his shoes against the floor, shaking off the snow.  
  
”Because there's nothing for me in England anymore. I want to stay.”  
  
”As you wish,” the elder sighed. ”You are a lot more stubborn than I estimated.”  
  
”My sister would have agreed. Shall we?” Daniel offered his arm expectantly. The baron stared, flummoxed, but took his arm anyway, and the younger man led them up the staircase.  
  
”What is the meaning of this?”  
  
”Sir, with all due respect, you are my master and it's my duty to serve you.”  
  
”Yes, but where are you taking us?”  
  
”The library,” he said nonchalantly. ”I thought that perhaps you'd like me to read to you again.”  
  
Alexander watched him from the corner of his eye mutely; he was either too stunned or too suspicious to say anything. Daniel walked them to the room where he'd read to the baron before, offered him a chair and sat down, facing him. The book of fairy tales he'd read was still on a side-table and he took it, searching the index and flipping the pages until he found something that pleased him. He began to read, his voice more confident this time. Alexander listened, with an almost curious expression on his face, and slowly, his lips stretched into a tentative smile.  


* * *

  
Daniel's throat was sore from all the reading the previous night. He'd read until his voice had turned hoarse and the first glow of a new day had lit the horizon,and Alexander had departed into his quarters. They hadn't said much to each other; he still had the feeling the baron did not fully accept his decision to stay. He had said nothing more against it either, however. He had sat there the whole night, listening keenly and letting him read at his own pace.  
  
The book lay on his bedside table, still unfinished. There were still many tales to be read, and Daniel cherished the idea. He still stumbled over his words while reading, but it did not bother him terribly much. It was a welcome feeling, having something where he could improve, something to keep him occupied for a while.  
  
He stretched out on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. It had been a slow sort of day after he'd awoken in the afternoon. He wasn't used to sleeping so late, but it didn't bother him particularly much. It was the coldest day of the month so far and he'd cursed the chill just quickly visiting the entrance hall to light the large fireplaces. He'd enjoyed his meals in the drawing room, cooped up in an arm chair, and he had little interest in doing much else for a few days.  
  
There was a knock on his door and Daniel got up lazily, stretching his arms. ”Yes?”  
  
Someone entered the drawing room, the door closing right afterwards. Soon after, Alexander appeared at the doorway of his bedroom, holding a tray laden with a tea pot, milk jug and bowl of sugar. There was just one cup and a plate.  
  
”I thought you might want some tea,” the baron said.  
  
The younger man raised his eyebrows. ”Aren't I supposed to be your servant and not the other way around?”  
  
”There's no rule against the master of the house treating his servants well.”  
  
Still, he did not step over the threshold. Daniel beckoned.  
  
”Do you need permission to enter a room in your own castle?” he teased.  
  
”That is superstition, and it does not even apply to my kind,” the baron said, looking annoyed. ”I am merely trying to be respectful of your living space.”  
  
This seemed to amuse Daniel further, but he decided to let it drop. ”In that case, please come in, sir.”  
  
Alexander looked as though he was regretting his decision already, but he stepped in. Daniel marked that he was dressed more casually today, in a simple white shirt with long cuffed sleeves, and a waistcoat of deep burgundy. Had he not known better, he would have thought it much too cold to be wearing so little, but it seemed temperatures were of no concern for Alexander.

Daniel supposed he should have gotten up and dressed more properly – he was only clad in simple trousers and a long-sleeved shirt without a waistcoat or an overcoat – but perhaps it didn't matter. Formally, the baron was still his employer and master, but something had shifted between them since his revelation, and something so mundane as dress code seemed unimportant. Either way, the baron didn't seem to care or notice, and the Englishman decided that if Alexander didn't mention his current state of undress, Daniel wouldn't mention his either.

The baron was about to place the tray on the desk when he froze again, staring at the mirror Daniel had brought in. He grip became lax and he nearly dropped the tray. ” _Lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch'intrate,_ ” he said in a strained whisper.

”Oh,” the younger man said, noticing what he was staring at. He saw the elder's expression and he suddenly knew why the mirror had been covered up. ”The Divine Comedy. And what hope are you casting aside at my doorstep?”  
  
”I'll be damned. Why did you bring it in?” Alexander demanded, ignoring his question.  
  
”It was beautiful, and served no purpose abandoned in a corner.” The Englishman got up, took the tray from him and set it on the desk. ”Come here. I want to see something.”  
  
Alexander did not move.  
  
The young man walked in front of the mirror, hands on his waist, and looked expectantly at the baron. ”Please. I want to know.”  
  
Alexander fixed a piercing glare at him, but the other did not budge. Slowly, the elder edged closer and came to a halt right next to him. He avoided looking in the mirror, but it was no use; Daniel inhaled sharply, his eyes on the reflection. Disbelief was etched deep into every feature of his face.  
  
”It's just me,” he said.  
  
”Abandon hope, then,” Alexander said, voice dripping with sarcasm. ”Abandon hope that it was all a dream.”  
  
”Were you thinking you could convince me I'd only been dreaming?” he asked brusquely.  
  
”Manners, Daniel.”  
  
”Beg your pardon, sir – did you think I'd be fooled that easily, _lord Baron_?”  
  
”I had hoped,” he said pointedly. ”But it's all but cast away now.”  
  
Daniel could still not tear his eyes off the reflection. He reached out his hand, placing it on the baron's shoulder. He gave it a tight squeeze, and his frown deepened. ”It's unbelievable. I can touch you, so you must be real, but the mirror shows nothing. Why is that?”  
  
Alexander sighed. ”I don't know, Daniel. I cannot answer you.”  
  
”Is there anyone who can?”  
  
”I cannot say. Perhaps there has once been someone who had the answers; perhaps they exist even now; but if they do, I've never met them.”  
  
”Have you met others of your kind before? Other… vampyres?”  
  
”Only from afar,” Alexander admitted. ”I don't know how many of us there are; I've glimpsed others, briefly, during my visits in larger cities, but I've never approached them.”  
  
”Why?”  
  
”Gathering together would be too risky. What do you think most humans would do if they discovered us?”  
  
He didn't need to answer that – he'd heard his share of old wives' tales and knew exactly what the folklore said about destroying them. The mental images were repulsive, and he shuddered. The baron brushed off his hand and sat down on the bed, well away from the mirror.  
  
”But you need to feed,” Daniel said slowly. ”How do you do that without being discovered? Wouldn't that be terribly risky, too?”  
  
The baron looked at him, his face very serious. ”It's always risky. That is why I cannot venture out to feed often.”  
  
”You mean...”  
  
”That I journeyed to Bremen to feed?” he asked. Daniel nodded. ”Yes. I cannot die from starvation, but it weakens me greatly. I try to drink as much as possible during these occasions to keep from becoming too weak, but it's inevitable that there are periods when I am little more than a walking corpse.”  
  
”And the people you fed on? Did they… survive?”  
  
The silence that fell between them was strained, and Alexander seemed to be avoiding his eye. Daniel shifted uncomfortably, crossing his arms across his chest, but continued staring at the elder.  
  
”No. No, they did not.”  
  
”I found bottles in the cellar,” the younger man stammered. He couldn't quite keep the disgust out of his voice. ”Bottles that had… had...”  
  
”You should not have gone down there.”  
  
”I had to know!”  
  
”I know,” the baron sighed, massaging his forehead. ”Generally speaking, only fresh human blood is suitable for my consumption. But if I am desperate, even old blood will do. It will only quench my thirst temporarily, however, but it works as an emergency solution.”  
  
”Will it strengthen you?”  
  
”No. It only keeps the thirst from becoming all-consuming.”  
  
”So you don't get to drink as often as you'd need,” Daniel concluded. He came to stand in front of the baron, his expression harried.  
  
”No, I don't.”  
  
”And how much would you need to drink? How often?”  
  
Alexander's expression had turned suspicious. ”Where are you going with this?”  
  
”Can you drink someone's blood without killing them?”  
  
Realisation seemed to hit him suddenly, and the baron's eyes widened. ”You cannot be—”  
  
”If you drank my blood,” Daniel said, speaking louder to drown out the baron's voice. ”Would that sustain you? Would it keep you from killing again?”  
  
”If you think I enjoy it—”  
  
”Would it keep you from killing?” he repeated, nearly shouting. He could feel his hands shaking; it was a horrible thought, a continued existence through slaughter.  
  
”Why does that matter to you?”  
  
”Because I cannot serve a murderer!”  
  
Alexander rose, his expression thunderous, but Daniel did not back away. They stood glaring at each other, faces only inches apart.  
  
”I told you, didn't I, that you should leave?” the baron snarled, baring his teeth. This close, Daniel saw for the first time how long his canines were, and how much sharper they were than a human's. His eyes were narrowed and Daniel wouldn't have been surprised if sparks had flown out of them. ”That you didn't need to remain here?”  


”I know that, _sir,_ ” Daniel hissed, leaning closer. Right now, fear had no place in his heart. ”But I have no choice. I have to stay.”  
  
”Then you have no right to complain!”  
  
”I'm giving you an alternative—”  
  
”You cannot—”  
  
”I can when it concerns my safety, too!” he yelled. He reached out and grabbed a hold of the baron's shoulders, as though intending to shake him. ”If it's enough to drink my blood – if you're willing to do it – you can avoid detection. You don't have to kill and risk drawing attention to yourself.”  
  
”And what's in it for you?” Alexander spat.  
  
”Don't you think that if you were discovered it'd be my end, too? If the authorities found out you're killing people and I were aware of it as your only servant, surely I'd suffer the concequences along with you!”  
  
He breathed as heavily as if he'd just run a mile; the baron could feel the heat of it on his face.  
  
”You are too rash, Daniel,” Alexander said, trying to shake him off. Daniel persisted, fingers digging into his shirt.  
  
”Perhaps,” he admitted. ”But isn't it worth trying? Sir?”  
  
Alexander could only stare at him in disbelief. He could see the beat of his pulse on his neck, rapid with his anger. The baron cupped his face, tracing the line of his chin until his fingers slipped low enough to caress his jugular, right where the beat of his heart felt the strongest. The Englishman shuddered visibly, nearly pulling away from the touch.  
  
”You are afraid,” the baron muttered.  
  
Daniel shook his head. ”I will not change my mind.”  
  
”And you believe you can take it?”  
  
”I'm willing to try.”  
  
Alexander pressed his fingers deeper into the soft flesh of his neck, feeling the drumming of his heart beneath his fingertips. A small whimper escaped the younger man, and he bit his lip, steadying himself.  
  
”I cannot guarantee it will sustain me for long, Daniel. I cannot take too much from you, nor can I take it too often; that would kill you.”  
  
”I know,” he said quietly. ”But perhaps it will be enough, just for a little while.”  
  
Alexander lifted his chin, looking directly into his stubborn eyes. There was fear there, yes, no matter what the man said, but also the cold steel of determination. And the baron quailed in front of it.  
  
”Alright. Let's do it your way.”  
  
The baron ran his hands down the younger man's back, one coming to rest at the small of his back, the other at the nape of his neck. They turned on the spot and the baron made him back away until he bumped against the bed.  
  
”Sir?” he asked uncertainly. He could feel the elder's hand pressing against his back, holding him firmly. The baron shoved him wordlessly and Daniel fell on the bed back first. Alexander crawled over him smoothly, his face hovering above the younger man's.  
  
”You will feel weak afterwards,” the baron said. His eyes were fixed on the Englishman's neck. ”It'll be safer this way.”  
  
”Alright,” he breathed. There they were again, those scorching devil's eyes, only inches from his, and he quivered violently when the baron ran his fingers over his neck again, tugging the collar lower. Alexander smiled, and his smile was all teeth; sharp like a knife, and just as hungry.  
  
”Good boy,” the baron said, bent low so that Daniel could feel his breath ghosting over his skin. His hand slipped to the nape of his neck again and slid upwards, cradling his head with surprising gentleness. For a moment, all Daniel could feel was the heat of his lips, and then, piercing pain that seemed to slice his neck in half. His clawed at the duvet for support as the pain mounted and became almost intolerable, until a wonderful numbness consumed him, and all turned white.

As though in a dream he heard faint words spoken, words from far, far away, and then he thought no more.

_”Forgive me, Liebling.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- ”Lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch'intrate” is a famous quote from Dante's Inferno, often translated as ”Abandon all hope, ye who enter here”. It's one of my favourite quotes, being so dramatic (and you all probably know already I'm all for dramatic stories, lol).
> 
> A/N:  
> Whoops I guess Daniel's not getting his tea now! Also this is one of my favourite chapters so far, personally, so I'm really excited to see what you all think of it! I was getting impatient while waiting to get to all the snarking.
> 
> Next week's chapter will be up by Wednesday because I'll be at NärCon 2016 from the 28th till the 31st and won't be taking my laptop with me. *u*


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'And of course I forgive, you've seen how I live  
> I've got darkness and fears to appease  
> My voices and analogies  
> Ambitions like ribbons worn bright on my sleeve'
> 
> Vienna Teng – Eric's Song

_December 1840_

It had snowed so much during the night that Daniel could barely see out of the windows of his quarters. Frost covered every inch of his window panes, and there was a thick layer of snow pushed against the sill outside. He had no memory whatsoever of Alexander's departure; in fact, he had no memory of anything that had happened since being bitten.

The mere thought made his face turn scarlet. It had already been light outside when he'd come to, and there had been a thick duvet drawn over him. The tea tray was gone from the desk. If it hadn't been for the fact that he'd woken up still wearing his day clothes, he might have been able to convince himself it had been a dream.  
  
He pushed himself up, legs wobbling underneath his weight. He felt light-headed, as though recovering from fever. There was a dark bruise on his neck that sent a wave of nausea rolling over him if he touched it. If he didn't know better, he might have mistaken it for a lover's bite; the marks left by the baron's teeth were little more than small pin pricks on his skin, invisible unless you knew what to look for. He had expected it to be messier, for there to be blood on his sheets and caked all over his neck, but all that he could find were two dried drops on his collar.  
  
Daniel tore off his shirt, repulsed. He slumped back on the bed, staring at the floor without knowing what to think. Everytime he closed his eyes he could see Alexander above him, bending low to kiss his neck. The memory drew a shudder from him. Never had he felt so disarmed, so helpless in his life, but he'd be lying if he claimed there hadn't been a certain kind of thrill mixed in with the fear. And heavens have mercy on him for the thoughts it aroused in him! He had never been so close to another person before, and there had been undeniable intimacy in it – he couldn't will it away, no matter how much he tried.  
  
_I didn't think it would feel like that.  
  
Like what? _ asked his subconscious.  
  
_Good,_ he answered, and guilt flared up at the pit of his stomach.  
  
”I am sick,” he whispered out loud. It didn't yield any results; the guilt was there, but so was the satisfaction.  
  
He wondered if this happened to everyone who got bitten but did not die. Surely, they normally didn't leave their victims alive out of fear of detection. Vampyres were predators; wasn't it the natural order of things that prey felt enticed by their hunters, even when they knew it was dangerous? Perhaps this was part of the charm, the way they controlled their prey. Perhaps it was only meant to keep the bitten subdued until the vampyre could return and drain the victim entirely.  
  
”We didn't do anything,” Daniel told himself firmly. ”I allowed him to bite me, so that no one would be killed.”  
  
But the thought of a warm mouth pressed against his neck still made his toes curl up, and no amount of reasoning could make it go away.  


* * *

  
Daniel barely managed to get anything down that day. The strange dizziness persisted, making him feel tired despite having slept so long, and he kept the door to the study closed to keep the heat of the fire in as much as possible. His hands felt cold and clammy, no matter how much tea he drank or how long he sat warming himself in front of the fireplace.  
  
It wasn't long after past dusk when he heard a door along the hallway opening with a creak, and he knew the baron was awake. Daniel felt his heart thud heavily in his chest and all too soon there was a knock on the door.  
  
”Come on in,” he called, fighting to keep his voice steady.  
  
The door opened and Alexander stepped in. He closed the door behind himself after noticing the younger man curled up in an arm chair, a blanket over his legs.  
  
”Evening, Daniel,” the baron said. ”Are you cold?”  
  
”A little bit chilly, sir. It is somewhat drafty during winter, I'm afraid.”  
  
Alexander sat down next to him, examining his face. The Englishman swallowed and tried for a polite smile, but there was nothing he could do about how warm his face felt all of a sudden. The baron touched his forehead, frowning.  
  
”You feel rather warmer than usual,” he murmured. He tugged down the collar of Daniel's shirt, eyes on the bruise on his neck. ”Have you been feeling unusually tired today? Blood loss can cause changes in body temperature.”  
  
”Perhaps a bit,” the younger man stammered. He wished Alexander wasn't so close – he wished to look anywhere but his face.  
  
”You should have stayed in bed.”  
  
”I'm fine, I swear.” Alexander still looked sceptical and he pressed on. ”How about you, sir? Do you feel… satisfied?”  
  
The baron studied him for a while. His fingers hovered over the bite; even such a small touch felt unbearably hot. ”Yes, I daresay I do. I feel strengthened.”  
  
He looked it, too, in Daniel's opinion. His face looked fuller and softer, and there was a healthy glow upon his visage – he looked like he'd gone back in time by ten years. It was impossible not to feel drawn to him like this, and the younger man didn't question why the villagers were so easily fooled by him. There was nothing that suggested frailty or incapacity in his appearance, and the glow of his honey-coloured eyes was so compelling that he could have had anyone, anyone at all, do anything he wanted for him.

”That's… that's excellent,” he managed. If only the baron would move away…  
  
”We must be careful, however,” Alexander continued seriously. ”The human body cannot lose much blood without consequences. I fear I may have gone too far last night.”  
  
”Are you certain? It didn't feel like… I mean, it wasn't so...”  
  
”You blacked out, Daniel. You wouldn't be able to tell how you felt afterwards.”  
  
He felt flushed all the way to his hairline. Had it been that obvious?  
  
”Moreover, losing blood puts you at a risk for infections. You must be very careful and rest.”  
  
”Yes, sir,” he whispered. He couldn't think of anything to say in objection – in fact, he wasn't quite sure he was thinking at all.  
  
The baron finally leaned back in his seat, turning to stare into the fire. Daniel exhaled slowly out of relief, the tension evaporating. What on earth was wrong with him? Alexander seemed content, yet he, Daniel, acted like he was about to sink his teeth into his neck again at any given minute, quivering in front of him like a terrified maiden.  
  
”It will be Christmas in a matter of days,” the baron muttered.  
  
Daniel blinked, shaken out of his reverie. It took him a moment to understand what the baron was talking about. ”Oh! Yes, that's true. Do you normally celebrate it?”  
  
Alexander shook his head. ”I haven't celebrated Christmas since the passing of my wife. There seemed to be little point.”  
  
”Quite understandable, sir.”  
  
”You are free to celebrate if it pleases you, of course. I am not expecting you to work on important holidays if it goes against your faith.”  
  
”Not at all, sir,” Daniel corrected. ”I appreciate the sentiment but I'm not terribly religious, if it's alright to admit such a thing.”  
  
The baron chuckled, eyes still on the fire. ”Nor am I, and I'm sure you can understand why. A man in my position has little faith left in gods of any description.” He shook his head, as if to shake off the thought. ”And I mean no offense, but you did not strike me as the devout type to begin with, Daniel. Rest assured I will not spread the information, however. It may be unwise to speak such things publicly.”  
  
The Englishman bit his lip, thinking. There was something he'd been aching to know, but he wasn't sure how to, without offending the baron.  
  
”Sir, there is something I must ask...”  
  
”Ask away, friend.”  
  
”It's about my predecessor,” he said carefully. ”Was he… I mean, did he really die of a heart failure?”  
  
Alexander must have heard the trepidation in his voice, for he looked up and met his gaze. ”I did not kill him, if that's what you meant to ask.”  
  
”I'm sorry, sir. I didn't mean to imply—”  
  
The elder lifted his hand, and Daniel fell silently immediately. ”It's quite alright. There is nothing wrong with being afraid.” He looked thoughtful. ”I don't know why he died exactly. All I have are my own assumptions. He found out, much like you did, what I truly am. He was wary of me ever since, and his health declined drastically over his last winter.”  
  
”Then..?”  
  
”It's likely it was the shock that killed him,” Alexander said, shrugging. ”Or perhaps fear. I do believe he was terrified of my true nature, and fear can kill as surely as physical injury.”  
  
”I'm sorry. I didn't mean to accuse you of anything.”  
  
”It's natural to be curious, Daniel, especially in your position. You have no guarantee that I will not hurt you.”  
  
Alexander was right; after last night, he felt more aware of it than ever before. The baron's eyes seemed to follow his every movement, and he couldn't help wondering what the man was when he looked at him – a friend, or a hunter?  
  
That night, when he laid in bed staring out of the frosted window, his heart seemed to beat more heavily than it ever had, almost as though it was aware of the dangerous gamble he had taken, making most of the limited time it had left. Daniel wanted to trust the baron, wanted to consider him a friend, but was there truly trusting him? Even if his intentions were sincere, the baron had never promised him he'd come to no harm. Daniel doubted he could make such a promise no matter how much he may have wanted to – he'd already lost control once, and there was no telling if it would happen again.  
  
His body was beyond exhausted, but his mind would not let him sleep. Everytime his thoughts strayed on Alexander it sent his heart racing, and no matter how much he told himself he wasn't afraid, he couldn't fool his instincts. He didn't want to be afraid of him, but those burning eyes followed his every move whenever he tried to sleep, and he knew he was fighting a losing battle.

* * *

  
His body recovered in the matter of days, the dull ache ebbing away. Daniel felt like he'd just suffered a brief but severe cold. The exhaustion of his mind seemed more reluctant to leave, however, and he wandered the castle feeling oddly wrong-footed.  
  
Christmas had been a subdued matter; he'd only prepared a small supper for himself, barely distinguishable from his usual meals. Their isolated location made sure the ingredients at his disposal didn't vary much. In an attempt for some peace of mind he'd read the familiar verses from the Bible and said a quick prayer in the solitude of his bedroom, but his heart was not truly in it. If anything, he felt like a fraud for trying for faith now, simply out of despair, and the hollow feeling in his chest deepened ever more. As a child he had found the scripture and the God it described frightening, but years had crumbled his fear into nothing more than a scholar's scepticism. The hellfire he saw reflected in the baron's eyes may have rekindled his fear of the devil, but it wasn't enough to restore his faith in God.  
  
Hell. The devil. Baron Alexander. The words repeated over and over in his head when he was trying to sleep. It was as if a black pit had opened up in his mind, like a path leading towards the circles of hell.  
  
No amount of fear seemed enough to force him to leave Brennenburg, though. If only the man didn't feel so human. If only it were easier to hate him. He wanted to think of the man as a monster, a murderer, but it seemed to slide off his mind stubbornly like drops of water on glass, and he knew he wasn't so easily convinced.  


* * *

  
His determination to never set foot in the underground corridors again made going down the slippery stone steps even more detestable than it had been the first time. He hated that dark, gaping maw; it made him feel like it was waiting to consume him whole. If it truly were a passage to hell…  
  
Daniel pushed the thought off his mind immediately. He needed to focus.  
  
The darkness had been all-consuming during his previous venture, and this time, he came prepared. He placed new torches into the empty brackets and lit them, though their quivering flames did little to calm his nerves. The light could not quite reach the furthest corners and the remaining unlit spaces felt more menacing than ever, like distorted faces watching from the shadows and waiting for his attention to slip.  
  
Particles of dirt fell soundlessly from the ceiling above the collapsed doorway, making the Englishman tense. He knew that Alexander's warning hadn't been just an empty threat, but he tried to convince himself the structure was stable enough – for now, at least. He took a deep breath, setting further into the shadowed halls.  
  
He would never get used to the pressing silence of the dungeon chamber. Knowing it must have once been filled with sounds of life, though they must have been the sounds of human suffering, made its emptiness more unsettling. He half-expected to see locked cells and hands reaching through the bars, even forlorn shapes huddled in the corners of their cells, but there was nothing there, nothing at all apart from him.  
  
He lifted the wooden lid covering the well, peeking inside. The rope was severed, the bucket missing. In the black hole he saw nothing but the frayed remains of the old rope; there was nothing that reflected back the light from his torch.  
  
”Dried up,” Daniel muttered, putting the lid back hastily. Staring too long into the dark depths made him feel sure he'd soon start seeing things, and for a second he imagined seeing a body hanging from the rope.  
  
There was nothing new in the cells, but the air smelled of rot and damp earth. It made his head pound.  
  
”What are you looking for down here?” he asked himself quietly. No answer came to him; he only felt the pressing need to look further, look around and find… what? There was nothing to be found there.  
  
Standing there in the middle of that chamber, Daniel felt even more the fool than the night before. His subconscious seemed unwilling to believe he was not exposed to any personal danger from the baron. Always questioning, always sending his heart into chaotic flutter, no matter how much he tried reasoning with it. Alexander had said he hadn't killed the previous caretaker, but Daniel had hoped he could have some proof beyond the elder's word. If only he'd find some concrete evidence, a body to inspect… His stomach turned over at the very thought.  
  
”What are you doing here?”  
  
He jumped, heart nearly tearing out from his chest. Alexander stood right behind him, his features ghastly in the dim light.  
  
”I-I'm sorry, sir, I just—”  
  
Alexander put up a hand. ”I've told you before that it's dangerous down here. What is it that you seek?”  
  
The younger man quivered under his expectant gaze. His excursion must have taken longer than he'd thought; it had still been relatively light outside when Daniel had entered the cellar, but the days were short during winter. He thought he'd gotten used to the baron moving silently so much like a spectre, but this time he hadn't even heard the door upstairs open. If the previous caretaker had indeed died a natural death, Alexander's unannounced appearances were likely to have contributed to it.  
  
He swallowed, praying for his voice to stay even. ”I simply thought I'd have a look around… that is to say I wanted to see if I could find a… a...”  
  
Alexander raised his eyebrows, but the younger man couldn't bring himself to say more. He opened and closed his mouth stupidly, knowing he couldn't possibly say _'I would like to inspect a fresh corpse just to make sure'_ without offending the baron.  
  
The elder sighed, exasperation evident in every line of his face. ”You are a poor liar, Daniel.”  
  
”I'm sorry, sir,” he said in a small voice.  
  
Alexander closed the distance between them in two long strides. Once again the sense of power radiating from him was palpable and though he was only a couple of inches taller than Daniel, he still seemed to be towering over him as terrible as Goliath himself.  
  
”You are afraid,” the baron stated coolly.   
  
”Yes, sir.”  
  
Alexander smirked. ”At last.”  
  
”Excuse me?”  
  
”I was worried you had no sense of self-preservation. I am dangerous, Daniel; it's only natural that prey should be afraid of a predator.”  
  
Standing so close to him was overwhelming. Daniel felt his heart hammering, the darkness shrinking the underground chambers and making him feel claustrophobic. He couldn't understand why – this was nothing to the dead silence of the Tuareg tombs in Algeria, nothing to the reality of several tons of sand shifting right above you, ready to trap you should anything go wrong. He'd never feared being underground or setting his foot into a tomb. But his nerves crumbled when Alexander touched his chin, caressing his jawline almost gently. Predator.  
  
”I don't want to be afraid,” he whispered.  
  
”So what were you doing here?”  
  
”I was… looking around if there were any remains of the prisoners who used to be kept here.”  
  
The baron's hand was almost too warm against his skin, fingers crawling close to the nape of his neck.  
  
”You thought I'd used the prisoners for blood.”  
  
”… Yes.” Daniel avoided his eye, and the fingers tightening in his hair sent his heart racing erratically.  
  
”You are cleverer than I believed. And much too curious for your own good,” Alexander said quietly. The elder's nails scraped at Daniel's neck, and he inhaled shakily. ”But you are correct.”  
  
”I am?”  
  
”Yes.” He could feel Alexander's breath against his ear, and the baron's rumbling voice sent chills down his spine when he spoke again. ”I could avoid being discovered by feeding on those whom no one would miss. Murderers, kidnappers, arsonists. No one would ever know.”  
  
”Why are you telling me this?”  
  
”Why indeed.”  
  
Daniel held his breath but the baron withdrew his hand silently. He walked slowly across the chamber and tentatively, the younger man followed. What he had taken to be another empty cell at the far end of the room had no door or hinges; it was an empty corner with nothing but an expanse of dirty stone wall, and at a closer inspection…  
  
”A handle,” Daniel mumbled, lifting the torch. ”So the chamber continues further.”  
  
Alexander looked at him and nodded. He grabbed the metal handle and pulled, and the seemingly unyielding wall lurched forwards, revealing a passage. Daniel coughed; the air on the other side was stale and smelled horrible. The baron stepped in, and he followed.  
  
The dark corridor was narrow and had several doors leading to the left. Daniel opened the first one he came to, peeking inside. It was empty, apart from ropes and chains hanging from the opposite wall. The floor was stained with something dark.  
  
”This way,” Alexander called. He was standing in front of a door at the very end of the corridor, holding it ajar. With a sense of foreboding, Daniel came to stand beside him.  
  
”What's in there?”  
  
”Those answers you wanted,” the baron said with a colourless voice. Slowly, Daniel wrenched his eyes off him, and entered the room. The stench was abysmal; he clamped a hand in front of his nose and mouth, but it didn't do much. His legs trembled worse the further he went, and he came to an abrupt stop in front of the back wall, eyes widening. The narrow stone cubicles cut into the wall weren't empty.  
  
It was a morgue.  
  
He backed away in horror, gagging. Some of the cubicles had nothing but dust in them while some had old remains, barely distinguishable as human bones. But the smell was that of decomposing flesh, coming from the few corpses still left in the room. They were long dead, Daniel could tell as much simply looking at them. The flesh had turned black, their bodies falling apart. Only the shape of them told him they had once been human; there was no knowing who they'd once been at this point.  
  
”Why aren't they buried?” he stuttered in horror.  
  
”It didn't seem necessary at the time.”  
  
”How will their souls ever find peace if we leave them like this?!”  
  
Alexander laughed mirthlessly. ”And I thought you were not religious.”  
  
”Why are you laughing? This is terrible!” Daniel exclaimed, clawing at his hair. The torch shook in his hand; he could feel bile rising to his throat, and he fought the urge to throw up.  
  
”You wanted this,” Alexander reminded him. ”You wanted evidence, and now you have it.”  
  
”I didn't want _this,_ ” he said. ”Not this.”  
  
His hands wouldn't stop shaking, and suddenly the baron was there, prying the torch from his hand. He placed a hand on Daniel's shoulder, gripping it tightly. ”Let's get out of here.”  
  
The Englishman couldn't find the energy to protest, and he merely nodded. He wondered briefly what was in the remaining rooms, but realised he didn't want to know; he would never want to know. Alexander led him into the main dungeon, carefully closing the door behind them. Daniel shook all over. He rushed to the other side of the room right on time before his stomach said its final protest and evicted his lunch.  
  
He could hear nothing but his own heavy breathing for a time. He wiped his mouth with a handkerchief when he was sure it was over, and behind him the baron cleared his throat.  
  
”I'm alright, sir,” Daniel croaked. ”Just need to catch my breath.”  
  
Slowly, he straightened up and walked out of the dungeon. Alexander joined him wordlessly. At the foot of the stairs he stopped, staring back towards the collapsed corridor.  
  
”Why have all that wine if you cannot drink it?” Daniel asked abruptly. The baron was already at the door and pushed it open without looking at him.  
  
”I do get visitors occasionally,” he answered. ”And many of the wines belonged to my father. The brewery was his project.”  
  
”Your father's?”  
  
Alexander was holding the door open with his back towards Daniel. The younger man hurried up the stairs and into the entrance hall. It was cold and desperately dark in there, too, but it was a relief nevertheless to get out of the cellar.  
  
”How old would you say I am, Daniel?”  
  
The younger man studied his face, mind racing. In his diminished state he'd assumed the baron to be very old, at least a man in his late seventies, but the blood seemed to transform his appearance. The hollows of his cheeks filled up, once wrinkly skin became smooth like marble. Even his eyes seemed more prominent, no longer sitting deep in their hollow sockets. If it weren't for the white of his hair, he could have believed the man had shed twenty odd years.  
  
”I cannot say, sir,” he answered truthfully. The baron laughed wryly.  
  
”I was born in the 1640s – the exact year has not been officially recorded.”  
  
”Then that would make you...”  
  
”Some two hundred years old, yes.”  
  
Daniel gaped at him, nearly forgetting to breathe.  
  
”My parents and I came from the Rhinelands to start a new life in this strip of land my father had been granted for his services to the crown. My parents lived to see Brennenburg completed, but died only a few years later, claimed by a plague that ravaged in the area at the time. The castle passed on to me, as I was their only surviving offspring. My parents are buried on the grounds.” He spoke quietly, his gaze distant. ”My wife and I were left here alone with a handful of servants. We never had children; she suffered several miscarriages over the years and finally died in childbirth at the age of 32. She and our daughter are buried together, next to my parents.”  
  
The baron's words came out in a rush, like water suddenly breaking through a floodgate. Daniel wondered when he'd last talked about any of this, if ever.  
  
”I'm so sorry, sir,” Daniel said in a hushed voice. Alexander did not meet his eye; he seemed almost lost in reverie, looking at something that was not there. He sighed, his voice quivering.  
  
Daniel couldn't think of what to say; the loss of his sister had cut so deep into his heart that he doubted the wound would ever heal. But to lose both a spouse and a child all at once? It was a loss so crippling that he couldn't even begin to understand it, let alone understand how Alexander had been able to go on all alone. He thought of the faded grave markers at the isolated corner of the woods, and his yearning to tidy them up only burned stronger. He had the nagging feeling that the baron didn't have the strength to face the task on his own, and the graveyard has fallen into a state of neglect just like the castle itself.  
  
”And you have been alone here ever since, I gather?” Daniel asked softly.  
  
Alexander's hand shook, knuckles whitening from gripping the torch. ”Very nearly. I've had servants over the years, of course. I grew old and weary, and finally, during a trip to Bremen, I was attacked on an empty alley at night. I was bitten, and left to die. But the one who bit me did a lousy job of it and turned me instead. I had meant for the journey to be my last. I'd already welcomed my approaching death with open arms, believing it would mean release from my worldly burdens.”

”What became of you, then?”

”Then, my dear friend, I returned to the castle, consumed by bloodlust, terrified of what I was.” His mouth split into a sharp grin. ”Perhaps it was lucky the dungeon hosted criminals at the time. I was too frightened to go outside, but I needed to feed. It was despair like I'd never felt before; I yearned to die but death would not come, I craved to starve but I couldn't stop eating. I locked myself in the cellars for days, resting only when night turned to day and my body grew weary, only to awaken again at nightfall and take out my thirst on the prisoners.”  
  
Daniel shuddered, the image much too terrible and too vivid in his mind. ”Does it ever go away, sir? The bloodlust, I mean.”  
  
”Not entirely. But it becomes… managable over time.”  
  
_What a terrible fate,_ Daniel thought grimly.  
  
”My servants were terrified of my behaviour after I returned from that faithful journey, of course,” the elder continued. ”I knew they were growing suspicious of me, and I pretended to be having religious visions to avoid an investigation. They feared me all the same, but I was able to conceal my true nature successfully, and over the years I made sure to keep less and less service staff around.”  
  
”But you're immortal, aren't you?” Daniel interrupted. ”How do you conceal something like that? That you're not aging as men should?”  
  
Alexander smiled and his smile was like steel, cold and sharp. ”It takes a certain cunning. I played the role of an old lunatic and my servants left one by one until the castle was empty but for myself and an old maid. I killed her and planted the false rumour that both I and the maid had died of an illness. The rumour kept people away from the castle.”  
  
”The villagers know you live here now, though,” the younger man said.  
  
”Yes,” the baron replied. ”My family were of such low standing among the nobility that my lineage has never attracted attention. I let time pass and took ownership of Brennenburg a few years later, pretending to be a distant cousin.”  
  
They walked slowly up the staircase, side by side. Daniel's thoughts were churning; he may have feared what the other man was, but that fear was making way for overwhelming pity. They reached the landing and he heard the elder sigh again next to him, his voice weary when he spoke again. ”Let us hope your sacrifice will be enough to keep my thirst under control.”  
  
”Yes,” the Englishman agreed. He couldn't bear to think what would happen if it wasn't enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Daniel's curiousity will land him into a whole lot of trouble at this rate, the poor sod has no self-control.
> 
> I'm off to NärCon 2016 waaay early tomorrow morning, so if any of you happen to be in Sweden and attending the con, come see me at the Artist Alley at KEY-house! Next chapter will be up sometime between Wednesday and Friday next week because I'll be back on Sunday and need a few days to rest. @.@ See you all next week and hope you enjoyed the chapter!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'There is a killer among us  
> Looking for kisses, looking for jaws  
> He is a desperate soul  
> He collects hearts in jars'
> 
> Susanne Sundfør – Among Us

_January 1841_  
  
It was remarkable how little one paid attention to such things as Christmas in a place like Brennenburg. Had it not been for his own diary-keeping Daniel would have missed it entirely, but he was meticulous in his writing and made sure to sit down for a phrase or two every evening. December the 25th had passed as unceremoniously as any other day, and a new year rolled in almost precisely in the same manner. The only notable difference was the sudden melting of snow – the temperature had gone up momentarily a few days before the 1st of January and turned the grounds into nasty brown slush that made the Englishman curse under his breath whenever he was forced to go out.

The one good thing about this had been the local farmer managing to get his wagon up the hill now that the road wasn't blocked with two feet of snow. He'd seemed quite cheerful despite his late arrival, and Daniel had welcomed the fresh delivery of smoked hams and a whole chicken the farmer's wife had sent with him as a festive gift.

”You'll have to pluck it yourself,” the man had said apologetically while Daniel had peeked in the sack. ”But it's as nice as they come, one of the fattest we had.”  
  
”Thank you ever so much, herr Zimmermann.”  
  
”No need to thank me,” he'd said with a shrug. ”Lord knows it's a lonely place, Brennenburg. You hardly get to enjoy any luxuries all the way over here, is all I'm saying.”  
  
He couldn't argue with Zimmermann's logic and had prepared the bird with all the care he'd managed. He had nothing to complain about – it had been nice and greasy and had made for several days' dinners.  
  
The Englishman was still surprised his endeavours in the dungeon hadn't made him lose his appetite altogether. He had tried to approach the subject of the bodies in the morgue, but to no avail. According to Alexander, his previous caretaker was not buried in the castle grounds.  
  
”His body was transported back to town,” he'd said dismissively. ”Gabriel was the one who took care of his correspondence and as such knew where the man should be laid to rest.”  
  
The baron hadn't quite answered his true inquiries but Daniel thought it best not to push his luck; the elder had been irritable since the incident in the cellar and seemed reluctant to say more.  
  
It still bothered him that he didn't know who those poor people had been. The corpses had certainly been too new to be prisoners, but who, then, had been imprisoned down there? He could only say for sure they'd died well before he had moved to the castle. Unlucky travelers, perhaps? The area surrounding Altstadt was famous for its beauty and could easily attract visitors looking to relax in the quiet hamlet. Or missing villagers? He truly hoped that wasn't the case. He quite liked the townspeople and it made the possibility feel like a personal slight. These thoughts he documented in his journal, careful to be vague in his description. Should his writings ever be discovered by a third party they'd be in trouble, him and Alexander both, and he wasn't very eager to admit he knew the baron to be a murderer.  
  
_Murderer._ The word chilled him to the very core, yet he knew it was true. Or could it even be called murder if the perpetrator wasn't human? Alexander had spoken of 'prey', and in essence he was a predator, though one wearing a human shape. Wasn't he acting simply as a predator should, hunting to stay alive? The first image that sprung to his mind was a grizzly bear and while he couldn't really call a bear evil for eating its prey, Alexander remained a much more difficult case to justify. Daniel pondered and pondered on it until his head ached and he tossed his quill across the room in frustration.  
  
He guessed he just did not want to think of the other man as 'evil', not the man whom he'd began to see as a friend.  
  
Friend. It carried an entirely different chill to it, one that turned his stomach into a tight knot of nerves. He hadn't had many friends during his adult life, truth to be told. Not that he disliked people, but he had been away so much for work that establishing long-lasting relationships had been nigh on impossible. He still had maintained correspondence with many of his student colleagues from university even while traveling to expedition sites for work, but it wasn't always enough. At the end of the day all he had were words on paper and no one to join for a cup of tea. After Hazel's death, it had struck him how lonely he truly was.  
  
The baron, old and peculiar though he was, was a friendly face, and one who stimulated great curiousity in him. Alexander was a gold mine of knowledge and a keen conversationalist, something Daniel appreciated greatly, and interested in many of the same subjects as he was. In a way, Daniel guessed the baron reminded him of Herbert, but being with Herbert had never sparked such elation in him. It was flattering that such a man would be on any level interested in him, to want his friendship. The younger man chewed on his lip thoughtfully.  
  
”But he's a demon,” he reminded himself, laying down on the bed. He pictured the baron bending over a writhing faceless prisoner, fangs biting into the flesh. The agony of being bitten… But it wasn't truly just agony, he thought nervously. There was odd, overwhelming pleasure to it; he wondered if it was part of the charm, a way of keeping the prey from escaping. Memory of the sensation sent a hot wave down to his groin, mingled with shame. If it was a charm, it worked. He wouldn't have dreamt of escaping the baron's teeth if his life depended on it. All he'd wanted was to lay there, a lifeless puppet, until he was used up and empty of essence, and he would have done it willingly.  
  
Daniel blushed in spite of himself, pushing the memory firmly away. He wondered if everyone who was bitten gave in so easily. Did they all give up as quickly, willingly exposing their necks and surrendering to their captors? Daniel wanted to believe he'd only done that because he trusted Alexander, but deep down he knew that wasn't entirely true. And what of the prisoners the baron had used to sustain himself for who knew how many years? They'd surely had no reason to give themselves over to him. Had they wanted, as Daniel had wanted, the terrifying pleasure of the monster's bite, turning into a pleading, shameless mess until all sense faded away?  
  
He rolled over on his bed, face hidden in the pillows. The mere idea disgusted him. He couldn't, he wouldn't let Alexander kill again and push the humiliation of such a death upon anyone.  
  
That fate he would save only for himself.  


* * *

  
Hours of sunlight were still so few that his working days came to an early stop more often than not. Firelight did only so much, and after hitting himself painfully with a hammer during reparations he left more tedious tasks to the short afternoon hours.  
  
As the short days waned towards their inevitable evenings he wandered the castle, lighting fires against the night and casting the corridors and chambers in candlelight. A new, soft snow fluttered down from the sky and pressed against the castle as a pale quilt, dressing the halls in a hushed silence. Often he thought he felt watchful eyes on him, following him just out of sight, but there was no one there once he turned around. Only his own pale reflection kept him company, staring at him wide-eyed from the large mirrors of the dining hall.  
  
For days, all he saw of Alexander were mere glimpses caught at sundown, the man emerging from his chambers for another solitary night. At times their eyes met briefly and Daniel wet his lips, words ready to spill from the tip of his tongue, but the baron always disappeared as quickly as he'd come. The ghost of his teeth still lingered on the Englishman's neck and tingled quietly if he brushed his fingers against it, rousing another wave of shame.  
  
If the baron was avoiding him, neither of them mentioned it. Daniel could still hear him playing the piano at night and finally, one evening his curiousity won over, and he approached the parlour. He entered the room quietly, lounging against the door frame, listening. Alexander looked up from his playing and they nodded at one another, exchanging wordless greetings and lapsing back into their silence. It wasn't uncomfortable, Daniel noted, the distance between them. There was a strange sort of familiarity to it that made him want to lay down and fall asleep listening to Alexander's playing.  
  
He saw the baron's gaze flit down to his neck, to the fading bruise there, and his posture stiffened. Daniel blinked, confused. He lifted his hands and slowly buttoned his collar as high up as it would go, watching the elder's reaction with baited breath. He seemed to sag from relief, eyes once again fixed on the score as though nothing had happened, but the brunette knew what he'd seen.  
  
_You are nervous,_ he thought incredulously, a sense of wild thrill that he could not explain settling deep inside his chest.  
  
Daniel took in the baron's diminishing appearance, the reappeared shadows under his eyes, and smirked. He knew Alexander was reluctant but he would soon be weak, perhaps too weak to seek prey outside of Brennenburg. Daniel wouldn't have to do anything; before long, the demon would come to him again, won over by thirst, securing their pact.  
  
Satisfied, he closed his eyes, losing himself in the music and forcing down whatever shame that persisted in his heart.  


* * *

  
Daniel found himself dallying in his drawing room later and later each night. His eyelids were often heavy with sleep, but the sense of anticipation in his gut would not let him sleep. As the days passed the baron's thirst would only grow stronger; all he needed to do was wait patiently, count the long hours till sundown. The thought of that demon bursting through the door, fangs bared, filled him with a sense of barely controlled panic. What if he didn't survive it? What if the baron lost control and ended up killing him? But everytime he thought of this, the images of the blackened corpses in the morgue swam in front of his eyes and he felt repulsed with his own cowardice.  
  
The Englishman sighed, leaning back more comfortably. He'd been sitting in front of the blazing fire, staring into the flames for what felt like hours. He could tell his body was tired; he felt the faint tremour of his hands. He wished he could quieten his brain for long enough to fall asleep, but he felt oddly high-strung, like a bow with its cord pulled back, ready to release the arrow.  
  
He reached for the table next to him and grabbed a book at random, leafing through it without any real desire to read. Words jumped up from the pages in a confusing blur until his eyes watered, and he massaged the bridge of his nose wearily. It was no good. The waiting game made it impossible for him to concentrate.  
  
”I wonder if this what killed the old caretaker,” he muttered, tossing the book aside again. He recalled being told that the man had been somewhat older than him. Perhaps his poor heart had failed in the constant anticipation of an attack from the baron, the stress becoming too much for his health. It wouldn't have surprised Daniel. He felt the burden of their pact resting heavily on his shoulders, but he, at least, had chosen it and knew to expect it. The previous caretaker clearly had not. Even if Alexander had never threatened his life, the poor man had undoubtedly feared him.  
  
Daniel wished he could have met the man and asked him about the baron. The caretaker's notes shed very little light on who he had been and what he had felt. His notebook was just that – a collection of notes and tidbits of information he'd needed for his job without any personal notations in the mix. There was nothing there that suggested anything had been amiss.  
  
He wondered how the caretaker had become aware of the baron's true nature, and if the man had suspected something from the very beginning. Looking back at it now, the brunette supposed he should have questioned the baron as soon as he'd arrived. Daniel's visage burned with embarrassment. It was as if his common sense had been asleep the whole time. Perhaps it had been part of the charm, he suggested weakly, without truly believing it. He doubted Alexander was willing to answer any more of his questions to clear up the mystery.  
  
The fire still burned brightly, keeping the room pleasantly warm. Daniel yawned, closing his eyes. None of it seemed to make any sense, and the erratic throb of his heart made him too tired to focus. He just wanted to slip into the shadows and wait, wait, wait endlessly…  
  
The darkness was comforting, a solace of sorts. The dancing flames dimmed and died, and all was pleasantly quiet. Then, out of the shadows came a cruel hand that tightened around his neck, squeezing until it constricted his windpipe and he was sure he would suffocate. His lips moved, trying to plead for release, but no sound came. His head lolled back, his limbs heavy and boneless. It was a relief, this exhaustion, and a voice at the back of his mind welcomed it. The shadows smiled with sharp teeth.  
  
_Please,_ he mouthed.  
  
_Please what?_ asked the shadows mockingly.  
  
”Please bite me,” he murmured, the hand around his neck relaxing.  
  
”Not yet, Daniel, not yet,” answered a deep voice.  
  
The Englishman blinked blearily. With half-open eyes he saw the shape of a man in front of him. The fire burned low in the fireplace, nearly reduced to glowing embers. He exhaled sharply, realising that he'd been holding his breath.  
  
”Alexander?” he asked hoarsely. He wasn't sure if he was still dreaming; his brain seemed oddly sluggish, his body reluctant to leave its comfortable stupor.  
  
Someone chuckled and a hand caressed his face briefly, as if telling him to go back to sleep. Daniel shivered at the touch, his heart picking up its pace again. Such cold fingers.  
  
”You should rest.”  
  
The Englishman shifted in the chair, closing his eyes again. ”You have grown cold again.”  
  
”Yes.”  
  
He could hear the creaking of the wooden floor as the other man walked slowly across the room.  
  
”You will need to feed soon.”  
  
”Have patience. We need just a little longer.”  
  
”But...”  
  
”Worry not, Daniel. I can control my thirst. I will not leave the castle in search of prey.”  
  
The younger man made a noncommittal sound in his throat, too drowsy to argue. He opened his eyes by just a sliver, and saw Alexander standing in front of the window with his back to him. He seemed pale, like a ghost, in the moonlight.  
  
”If only you could see me now, Liebling,” the elder murmured, his voice almost too soft to hear. He seemed to be gazing up at the pregnant moon, hanging low in the sky. ”What would you think of me?”  
  
Daniel bit his lip, looking away from the baron. His eyes burned suddenly with hot tears, and he curled up on the chair, pretending to go back to sleep.  
  
_What would you think of me, Hazel, protecting this demon?  
  
_ ”If only you knew what I've become.”  
  
_If only you knew me now.  
  
_ The baron sighed quietly, and the sound tore at the Englishman's heart. He heard light footfalls approaching, then coming to a stop, and a hand stroked his hair lightly. The gesture was oddly comforting, and his scalp tingled even after the hand withdrew.  
  
”I do not wish you harm,” Alexander said, closing the door quietly after himself.  
  
_But what if I want you to harm me?_ the brunette thought, knowing he'd never receive an answer. Hazel's familiar face swam in his head, and his heart ached.  
  
”I wish I could come to you already,” he whispered, and drifted off to troubled sleep.  


* * *

  
When he awoke the next morning he was aching all over. The drawing room was still warm enough, but sleeping curled up in a chair had taken a toll on his back. He got up slowly, stretching until his joints popped.  
  
Daniel squinted, trying to piece together what had happened the night before. His recollections were hazy, and he wondered vaguely if Alexander's visit had merely been one of his restless dreams. He knew he'd had more than enough of those; the image of his sister had woven in and out his dreams, sometimes turning into the figure of the dead baroness, sometimes into a corpse with blackened arms and legs. He looked around the room, but there was nothing that indicated the baron had truly been there.  
  
The thought made him feel strangely lonely.  
  
He shed his wrinkled clothes and washed as quickly as he could. He had no interest in heating up the water to wash properly. The cold water had a sobering effect. Though he shivered violently as water ran in rivulets down his exposed torso, he felt lighter than he had in days.  
  
”Just a little longer, and I'm ready for the day,” he sighed. He blinked, the memory of a cold hand brushing against his cheek suddenly clear in his mind. ”Just a little longer,” he repeated slowly. The words had a familiar ring to them.  
  
He splashed his face with water once more, pushing his wet hair off his face. He remembered the baron's words now, and they repeated over and over in his head. _Just a little longer.  
  
_ ”I can do it,” he told himself out loud as he dressed. A strange warmth was spreading throughout his body, making him feel elated. ”I can do it.”  
  
_I can keep him from killing again._  
  
Daniel looked at his reflection in the mirror. His face was flushed, his eyes wide and bright despite the dark circles framing them. The bruise on his neck had vanished days ago, but he knew it had been there. The proof he needed.  
  
The proof that he could tame the demon with his own blood.  
  
He stole a quick glance at Hazel's portrait on his way out, and her eyes seemed to follow him even when he'd left the room.  


* * *

  
The baroness in her blue dress seemed to observe him from her portrait, much like Hazel had from hers. Daniel concluded that he'd been away from civilisation for too long – the two women with their vacant eyes and soft smiles were hardly what you'd call company, yet he felt comforted by them. With some embarrassment he'd realised he should have suspected something upon finding the painting of Alexander's late wife; the style of the portrait was old-fashioned, and she had been depicted with her hair stylishly piled up on the top of her head with a few elaborate curls falling on her shoulders. Daniel didn't know much about fashion in the high society, but he'd never seen any woman wear their hair in such a manner in his lifetime.  
  
She could not have been very old when she'd been immortalised on canvas. Her young face was round and full, her cheeks salmon pink like a pair of summer roses. With a jolt Daniel realised she'd been about his age when she'd died. There was an air of sweetness about her, and he wondered whether it was a reflection of her personality or just the artist's vision.  
  
”I don't even know her name,” he lamented. The lady baroness merely smiled at him.  
  
Perhaps it was merciful she did not know what had become of her husband. Daniel could only wish her spirit, no matter where it was, couldn't witness the horrors he now had to endure to survive.  
  
A couple of days passed as he worked alone in the comfort of the library, fireplaces lit and doors firmly closed to prevent any warmth from escaping. He restored paintings into new frames, attached missing legs to stools and repaired an entire bookshelf from an unused side room. The shelf he was particularly happy about; it gave him the chance to clean the room properly, now that all the books that had been littering the floorspace were back in their proper places.  
  
The library resembled an art gallery by the time he was done. He had hung most of the paintings there, occupying the empty spots on the walls, and brought in unused candelabras from the servants' quarters. The high-ceilinged hallway looked much more inviting than it had done previously.  
  
He had just finished drawing the curtains against the blackening night when someone called his name.  
  
”I see you have been busy.”  
  
”Good evening, sir,” Daniel said, smiling.  
  
”I leave you alone for three short days and I can barely even recognise the castle.”  
  
”You make it sound like the result doesn't please you.”  
  
The baron chuckled, looking around at the newly hung paintings as he walked. ”Oh, quite the opposite. It pleases me very much.”  
  
Daniel joined him in front of a large oil painting of a flowering meadow. ”I thought they were all too nice to be left in storage.”  
  
”You have turned my library into a museum.”  
  
”You should have known to expect that, sir,” the Englishman responded, sounding amused. ”Someone with my working experience could hardly be trusted to resist the temptation.”  
  
”It was foolish of me to expect anything less of you,” Alexander mused. ”Especially when I already know your readiness to give in to these, what did you call them, _temptations_.”  
  
He stressed the last word pointedly, and Daniel fought to keep a straight face.  
  
”With all due respect, sir, I am nothing but a man of highest virtue.”  
  
”Of course you are,” the baron chimed, but his voice dripped with humour.  
  
”Is my Lord Baron suggesting something else?”  
  
”Oh, I have no need to. I know there isn't a thing I could hide from you, anyway.”  
  
They looked at each other, feigning seriousness, before their faces split into grins. Daniel shook his head, laughing, and the strange sense of elation washed over him again. ”Really, sir, you are terribly rude.”  
  
Alexander patted his shoulder in passing, still smirking. ”I only meant to say that you let your curiousity run away from you sometimes.”  
  
”Alas, such is human nature.”  
  
”Indeed,” the baron agreed.  
  
Daniel took in the elder's wearied appearance, and his heart set into a nervous rhythm. ”And sir,” he said slowly. ”With all due respect, but have you been resting well?”  
  
”Ah. I knew you would ask.”  
  
”You have grown thinner,” he said, choosing his words carefully. The baron's cheekbones were knife-sharp, his fingers almost skeletally thin.  
  
”Yes,” the elder admitted softly, turning to look at the paintings again. He was only wearing a cuffed white shirt and a silvery waistcoat tonight, and the quivering candlelight robbed him of what little colour his skin had. If Daniel hadn't known better, he would have thought the man was just a ghost.  
  
”You cannot starve yourself like this forever.”  
  
Alexander did not answer or look at him.  
  
”The previous bite healed without complications. I haven't felt weak or sickly, not after the first two or so days after you last drank,” the Englishman pressed on. ”Please, sir. You need to feed.”  
  
Finally, the baron faced him again. He considered the younger man quietly, then took his hand, entangling their fingers. He kissed the underside of his wrist, right where he could feel his pulse the best, and Daniel closed his eyes. So cold.  
  
”Are you afraid?”  
  
”No,” he said with a tremble.  
  
”Liar,” Alexander murmured, closing the distance between them. His voice was just a soft breath ghosting against the younger man's ear, dipping lower until his icy lips caressed the length of his exposed neck with slow, exploring kisses. Daniel felt himself being pressed against the wall and he leaned against it, knees already feeling weak. Something much more primal than fear had settled in the pit of his stomach, promising its sweet saccharine if only he let go, let the want escape its bonds. He clawed at the fabric of the baron's coat with heavy hands and he couldn't tell whether it was for support or for something completely different. All he knew was that he _needed_ , and the need pushed all else off his mind.  
  
He let out a strangled cry when the bite came, harsh fangs sinking into his skin with terrible pain. His entire body shook and he breathed heavily, but the elder had him pinned against the wall so firmly that he couldn't fall. He could feel his grip on Alexander's coat becoming lax and it was bliss, bliss, the pain numbing into nothing but dull throbbing that made him light-headed. He felt rather than heard the baron groan against his neck, his mouth clamped tight around the bitten area, sucking intensely.  
  
Daniel was only vaguely aware that he should have feared for his life; Alexander could drain him there and then if he so chose to, but all he could think of was how much warmer the elder's hands were becoming, the frost of his lips replaced with the scorching heat of fresh blood.  
  
But no one had told him being bitten would feel like this; that it would make your body demand so much and so loudly. All that fell from his lips was a mindless mantra of please, please, please, and he didn't know if he begged for release or for more. The Englishman felt the body against him shift, the pressure of it sending a wave of desire down his spine and lower, lower.  
  
And without a warning teeth let go of his tender flesh, and Alexander's mouth was level with his, those cruel lips ruddy. His eyes blazed like fire, all hesitation gone.  
  
He thought he saw the elder's mouth move, form words, but he heard none of it. His bones were on fire and all his mind managed was a hoarse 'please' and then Alexander's mouth was moving against his with the same unforgiving force. The taste of iron filled Daniel's mouth, the taste of his own blood, and it pushed everything off his mind, everything but the demon pressed tight against him. He was sure they moved as one like waves on a stormy sea breaking against cliffs, their breaths mixing together until their kisses were a mess of tongues and teeth.  
  
”I'll make you mine yet,” Alexander whispered between kisses, his fingers tightening in the other man's hair.  
  
”Please do,” came his answer, words just as rushed as the baron's.  
  
There was a flurry of movement where neither could tell who led and who followed, their fingers tangling with one another frantically, pulling at each other's clothes. Somehow, in a heated blur, Daniel knew they were headed down the hallway to the one part of the castle he'd never been allowed to visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been waiting with baited breath to publish this particular chapter! Things are starting to get steamier, aren't they? I struggled so much to get this chapter to come out just right but now I'm really happy with the outcome. I'm so, so glad Daniel is finally getting relaxed enough to show his true colours a bit more. He can be downright cocky sometimes, can't he? Alexander will have himself a handful there…


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Won't you help me rise up  
> Touch my face and watch me try to breathe again?  
> Would you let me do this, burn down the final wall?'
> 
> Vienna Teng - Momentum

_January 1841_

The baron's hand was so very warm against his cheek. Daniel could only lay still on the bed, eyes closed, yet the room seemed to be swaying around him still. He was only vaguely aware of his neck throbbing; one bite had become many, each hurting more than the one before, each turning into an overwhelming wave of bliss just as quickly, and he had lost his perception of time. He couldn't tell how long they'd been laying there, Alexander watching him carefully the entire time.

Daniel inhaled slowly. The weakness that had spread into his limbs felt oddly pleasant, and he knew he must have drifted off earlier.  
  
”How are you feeling?” Alexander murmured.  
  
”Sleepy, mostly,” the Englishman said after some consideration. His recollections were hazy, full of confusing movement. He remembered hands on his waist and his chest, fingers tangling with one another, lips that journeyed restlessly across his neck, looking for unmarked skin to explore. And the teeth, yes, the cruel teeth that pierced his flesh over and over until the pleasure became too much and he couldn't, couldn't take it a second longer. He knew, somewhere in a distant corner of his mind that was still awake, that Alexander had never taken too much of his blood, careful to satisfy himself with a drop here, another there, each bite as slow and lingering as a lover's kiss. His lips had softly brushed the bitten skin until Daniel bled no more, cradling him until his breathing eased.  
  
”Are you hurt?”  
  
”No. I'm just a little bit sore.”  
  
He felt Alexander's hand brush his hair off his face, fingers slowly untangling from his locks. ”I should not have gone quite so far.”  
  
Daniel shivered and began slowly buttoning up his shirt to cover his exposed chest. He let out a soft groan as the fabric brushed against his collarbone, a bite almost directly above it sending out a new flash of pain. The baron bent over him, examining the abused skin.  
  
”I'm sorry, Daniel. I got carried away.”  
  
He placed his hand over the elder's. ”I promise you, you didn't. I wanted it as much as you did.”  
  
Again, warm lips pressed against his, and Daniel tipped his head to meet the elder's kiss. Where there had been urgency before was now slow, exploring tenderness, their breaths mixing as they both drew closer. Daniel embraced the man above him with all the firmness his tired muscles could manage and he could feel the baron relaxing against him. He felt much warmer, much softer underneath his touch now; almost human.  
  
”Is your thirst quenched, sir?” Daniel asked, pressing their foreheads together. He opened his eyes, only to find Alexander's amber ones inches above him.  
  
”Call me Alexander,” he replied.  
  
”Alexander,” the brunette said. After months of tiresome formalities the name was clumsy in his mouth, yet made him feel inexplicably warm somehow.  
  
”I am quite content, thank you,” Alexander answered, his voice mellow. He rose from the bed, his clothes miraculously bearing no sign that he'd done more than taken a stroll to the library.  
  
It was a curious thing, the Englishman thought as he watched the vampyre, that the blood could cause such a transformation in such a short time. The elder seemed more awake, the constant hunger in his eyes gone momentarily. His hands lost their spider-like appearance; he was no longer skeletally thin but strong and slim, his features much softer and fuller.

Daniel yawned, shifting until his limbs settled more comfortably. The baron's quarters weren't much bigger than his own, but the fireplace in his bedroom was enormous, and the four-poster bed was much larger than his, with a sturdy headboard and heavy drapings tied around the four columns. There were no windows, and the soft candlelight only made him drowsier. Alexander seemed to have very little personal belongings or furniture in the bedroom, making it seem larger than it actually was.

”It is a peculiar thing, the way it feels to be bitten,” Daniel wondered aloud. ”It seems to make little sense. Why should it feel _good_? To keep the prey docile?”  
  
”Perhaps,” the elder said. ”I cannot say for sure.”  
  
”Peculiar,” Daniel repeated. For a while there was no other sound than the baron tending to the fire, and soon the flames burned high with renewed vigour.  
  
”You should return to your quarters,” Alexander said after a while. ”Dawn is approaching, and I must sleep.”  
  
”How can you tell?”  
  
”I can feel it,” he said simply.  
  
Daniel nodded, getting up slowly. His body was heavy to push up but his legs supported him quite steadily. He was glad to notice his head had finally stopped swimming, though exhaustion had settled deep into his bones. Alexander's eyes bore into him, and he knew the elder was watching him for any signs of affliction.  
  
”I'm quite alright,” the Englishman assured him. ”I shall let you rest now… Alexander.” He only barely managed to stop himself from addressing the elder as 'sir'.  
  
”I'd advise you to do the same,” the baron said gravely. ”You may not feel it, but your body is exhausted.”  
  
Daniel wouldn't have willingly admitted it, but he knew the baron was right. His walk to the caretaker's quarters seemed to take twice as long as usual, his legs refusing to go any faster. He guessed he should have eaten something first but he felt much too tired for even a cup of tea. It was a relief to strip out of his day clothes and crash down on the bed; the fresh bites throbbed anew every time he turned his head, making him yearn for long sleep.  
  
He could still picture the baron bending over him if he closed his eyes. The thought drew a shudder from him. He didn't know what to make of their kisses yet, of the strange intimacy forged between them; whatever it was, he knew there had been no hesitance from his side. Whatever it was within him that Alexander had awakened, it had heard the call and responded willingly like some great, slumbering beast. Daniel had no name for it, no explanation.  
  
The scar on the palm of his hand seemed to sting again, though he knew it was impossible. He traced the faded cut with his fingers thoughtfully. His hands were icy, and he knew he'd lost more blood this time. The brunette rolled over to his side with a tired sigh.  
  
He was not stupid, of course. He knew very well there were places in London were men, _that_ kind of men, went for the company of other men; though no one spoke of them, everyone knew they existed. There was much such information that was only conveyed without words, secrets that were not secrets but simply things no one voiced openly. He knew there had been such men among his study companions, too, though none of them had ever so much as approached the subject. Daniel had never thought of himself as one of those men, but he'd never thought much about the ladies, either. He'd simply never given it much thought – there had always been something more important than vapid dalliances, let alone marriage.  
  
But it was hardly something like _that_ with the baron, he thought with some exasperation. That would have been highly inappropriate in more ways than just one.  
  
”He's not even human,” Daniel huffed. ”It's hardly the same thing.”  
  
And if he submitted willingly to the baron's desires, so what? He was a servant, and it wasn't like it was love that bound them together. It was a bond of pain.  


* * *

  
That time, he did come down with a rather nasty cold. He woke up aching all over, and one touch at his forehead told him he was burning up. Putting together breakfast took quite an effort, and by three o'clock he was back in bed, buried under two extra quilts and propped up by all the pillows he'd managed to find. He still wasn't comfortable – every single muscle in his body seemed to have taken offense to the fever and protested loudly no matter what position he lay in – but he managed to doze off every now and then, and made it until nightfall in a kind of half-dreaming state.  
  
The had fire died out in the fireplace while Daniel had been out of it, and he was too shaky to get up to tend to it. He spent the late hours trying to read, occasionally interrupted by a fit of sneezing and coughing.  
  
It was sometime past midnight that his bedroom door opened and the baron stepped in. Alexander took one look at his disheveled appearance buried under the blankets and shook his head. ”I'll get you some tea.”  
  
He came back some ten minutes later with a tray, and Daniel's stomach growled appreciatively at the sight; there were several thick slices of bread as well, topped generously with butter and ham.  
  
”You've let the fire die down,” Alexander said reprovingly. He placed the tray on the bed next to the younger man before turning his attention to the fireplace. Daniel was too hungry to pay attention, and though his throat was sore and he scarcely tasted anything, he had finished the bread before the elder had managed to get a fire going again. He leaned back against the pillows and sighed contently, some of his energy restored.  
  
He sat sipping his tea when Alexander joined him, sitting on the edge of the bed. A fire crackled merrily in the fireplace again, slowly engulfing the logs of wood and releasing heat into the room.  
  
”Thanks for the supper,” Daniel said, flashing the baron a tired smile.  
  
”I guessed you hadn't eaten much in this state.”  
  
”No, not after breakfast.”  
  
Alexander clicked his tongue, expression surly. For some reason this amused the younger man and he laughed, only to be hit by a coughing fit right afterwards. The baron leaned closed, rubbing his back until the episode passed.  
  
”Easy, easy,” he said. ”What on earth did you do to get like this?”  
  
”Nothing. I woke up feeling feverish and spent the day in bed,” Daniel answered truthfully. He poured himself another cup of tea, stirring until the sugar melted.  
  
”I knew we went too far,” the elder said disapprovingly. ”We must be more careful from now on.”  
  
”It doesn't feel too bad. I'm sure I'll be fine with a day or two of rest.”  
  
Alexander's eyes narrowed, and he scrutinised the brunette critically. ”Your lack of care for your well-being worries me.”  
  
”Perhaps you worry too much in that case.”  
  
”Be quiet,” the baron snapped. ”You keep persuading me into drinking your blood without caring whether or not you might get hurt in the process. It's almost as if you have a death wish.”  
  
”You didn't exactly protest last night, as far as I remember.”  
  
”Aren't you concerned at all? I could easily kill you by mere accident, simply by draining too much of your blood.”  
  
Daniel shrugged. ”I am not afraid of death. If you happened to kill me, you'd have my forgiveness; even my gratitude. I would at least get to see my sister again.”  
  
He could tell immediately he'd said the wrong thing. Alexander's nostrils flared and got up suddenly, his expression darkening. ”How dare you?” the baron hissed between clenched teeth.  
  
”Excuse me?”  
  
”You insist on staying in Brennenburg despite your life being in danger here, device some harebrained plot to make me drink your blood, and all because you're secretly hoping I might kill you in the process?” He advanced towards the Englishman, his face contorted with fury. ”You'd use me as your instrument to end your pitiful life and place the burden of your death upon me? How dare you. _How dare you._ ”  
  
Daniel straightened, though it didn't do much since he was still huddled under the blankets. ”What's one more death to you? You've killed before, haven't you?”  
  
The baron all but swelled with rage, leaning over the younger man so that their faces were inches from one another. His chest was rising and falling rapidly. ”If you want to die so badly, then do it yourself! I will not be used by a mere mortal!”  
  
”Don't pretend to have a conscience now,” Daniel snarled back. ”I know what you are. I know you have killed before to survive.”  
  
”Because I have no choice!”  
  
”But I do,” the Englishman said loudly, ignoring his searing throat. ”Better death than this pitiful half-life you lead, _Lord Baron_. I'm sure your wife would be so proud.”  
  
Alexander yanked at the front of his shirt roughly, pulling him closer. The tea tray rattled precariously at the sudden movement.  
  
”Then leave,” the baron spat, his hand shaking with anger. ”Leave Brennenburg and get out of my sight!”  
  
He let go of the brunette with a rough shove. There was the sudden noise of shattering china as the cup toppled on the floor, and before Daniel could say any more Alexander had stormed out of the room, the door slamming shut behind him with horrible finality.  


* * *

  
It took Daniel two full days to recover, and even after the fever was already gone he continued feeling faint, tiring easily from the simplest tasks. He'd kept to his quarters, only emerging to fetch something from the kitchen.  
  
The memory of Alexander's furious face seemed to haunt him. With a sinking feeling he realised he'd gone too far that night, and he had no clue how to remedy the situation. He seemed to be stuck in a cycle of self-doubt; while he'd meant everything he had said, he guessed he shouldn't have put it so bluntly.  
  
He might have spent all of the following day mulling over his thoughts if a horse hadn't suddenly galloped to the gates.  
  
Daniel rushed to the courtyard, cursing that he hadn't thought to wear an overcoat. The rider had dismounted and came walking towards him, leading his horse behind him. The man was dressed in a long black cloak and wide-brimmed hat that looked strangely familiar.  
  
”Gabriel,” the Englishman called, approaching him. ”You're early! What brings you up here?”  
  
The outrider grinned. ”Errands, my good man. I wouldn't ride through all this snow without a good reason.”  
  
”It's not that bad right now, really.” The snowfall had been light in the past weeks, and the snow now reached up to mid-calf in the worst places.  
  
”Not here on the courtyard, perhaps,” the outrider said darkly. ”You should see the road leading here. You wouldn't be able to get a wagon here now.”  
  
”So why have you risked the weather, then?”  
  
”You have mail. There's couple addressed to you, and one for the baron.”  
  
Gabriel dug a bundle of letters from a sack tied to the saddle and Daniel took them, slightly baffled. ”I wasn't expecting any replies until spring.”  
  
”I assumed you'd appreciate getting to your correspondence a bit faster than that,” the outrider said with a nonchalant shrug. ”Good to stay in touch with the world. It must get lonely up here at times.”  
  
”It does,” Daniel admitted. ”Thank you so much for coming all this way.”  
  
”Don't mention it.”  
  
Daniel examined the letters, recognising Herbert's tidy scrawl immediately on one of them. He looked around the courtyard and suddenly, an idea dawned on him. ”Say, you wouldn't be able to get me a carriage up here once the weather improves?”  
  
”A carriage? Are you going somewhere?”  
  
”I'd like to visit Altstadt,” he declared, stuffing the letters in a pocket. ”There are some wares that we need to order, and I'd like to do it in person.”  
  
”I suppose that's doable. I'll arrange it as soon as the snow melts a bit.”  
  
”Thank you, Gabriel. I'd appreciate it.” He gestured towards the main entrance. ”Would you like a drink before you're off?”  
  
”A drink? At this hour?”  
  
Daniel winked. ”The baron won't mind. He's asleep.”  
  
The outrider laughed, pulling at the reins gently. ”I wouldn't mind a drink, in that case. Something to keep me warm on the way back.”  
  
He tied the horse's reins to one of the posts on the courtyard and followed Daniel indoors. After enjoying a glass of wine Gabriel departed as quickly as he'd arrived, and Daniel carefully opened the letters one by one. One of them was from a colleague from his student days; another turned out to be from his parents. Daniel knew, even before he'd fully opened it, what it would contain, and halfway through he rolled it up and tossed it into the fire. He had quite enough on his plate without their reminders about his ignorance towards them.  
  
Herbert's reply was long; full of greetings from old colleagues and colourful descriptions of their recent work. The professor talked at a length about a new expedition planned for the spring, and he couldn't help but feel a little bit wistful. Herbert had ended his letter in such a fatherly fashion that it made him smile despite himself, wondering whether the man was growing sentimental with age.  
  
_'I have full faith that the baron treats you fairly, but should you ever decide to return to England, please know that you'll always be welcomed back among us. I know that you are a capable, honest man and as such we feel your loss most gravely in our daily work.'_  
  
Daniel sighed, putting down the letter. ”Perhaps I am too honest, professor.”  


* * *

It was with some apprehension that he pushed open the doors leading to Alexander's private quarters later that night. Even before their row he wouldn't have dared to enter without permission, and his stomach squirmed unpleasantly as the door closed behind him. There was faint light at the very end of the darkened corridor, and he realised the door to the bedroom stood ajar.

”Sir, it's me,” he said, trying to sound unconcerned. He gave the door a light knock almost as an afterthought and entered the room.  
  
Alexander was sitting on the bed with his back to the door. He visibly stiffened, hearing the younger man's voice.  
  
”I haven't given you permission to enter,” he said coolly.  
  
Daniel came to stand beside him. ”Begging your pardon for the intrusion, sir.”  
  
”Go away.”  
  
He pretended not to hear the baron. ”We need to talk.”  
  
” _Go away._ ”  
  
”No.”  
  
Alexander got up, facing him. He looked every inch as furious as he had the last Daniel had seen him, his eyes practically blazing. ”Are you defying a direct order from your master?”  
  
”I am,” the Englishman replied in a colourless tone.  
  
”I told you to leave Brennenburg, didn't I?” Alexander snapped. ”Yet I still find you here, bursting uninvited into my quarters, and you dare defy me again when I tell you to get lost?”  
  
”I do, sir.”  
  
Alexander raised his hand as if to strike him, but the brunette acted as though expecting this and simply grabbed his wrist. The baron's eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed again, lips pulling back into a snarl. ”I've had enough of your insolence, Daniel!”  
  
The Englishman tightened his grip, hand shaking with the effort of holding back the vampyre. He knew he was no match to him physically should the baron truly try to harm him, but the adrenaline was rushing into his brain did not seem to care.  
  
”I know you are angry with me,” he said. ”And I cannot pretend that I didn't mean what I said three days ago. I do not fear death.”  
  
”You should learn to,” Alexander hissed and tried to free his hand. ”I'll make it so that your death will be spoken of only in hushed whispers!”  
  
”The rest, however, should have never been said,” he continued as though he hadn't heard the elder. ”I overstepped my boundaries. I am sorry.”  
  
”You are sorry?”  
  
”I am, and I beg for your forgiveness. Please do not cast me away.”  
  
The elder broke into humourless laughter that died away quickly as Daniel continued staring at him stubbornly. Alexander met his gaze, looking sceptical.  
  
”You are serious about this.” It wasn't a question.  
  
Daniel sighed, letting go of his arm. ”I know you don't believe me, but please, let me remain in Brennenburg. I don't want to leave.”  
  
The elder said nothing, merely continuing to glare at him. Finally, Daniel sat down on the bed, not really knowing what to do with himself. They watched each other quietly for a good long while without speaking until Alexander looked away and started pacing around the room.  
  
”I'm sorry,” Daniel repeated.  
  
”I know you're sorry.”  
  
”I mean it.”  
  
”I know.”  
  
”I shouldn't have said that about your wife. It wasn't my place.”  
  
Alexander paused in front of the fireplace, turning away from the younger man. He seemed to be going through some great internal struggle, for when he spoke his words came out in a rush, as though he couldn't stop himself. ”If I could go to her, I would. I want to see her again more than anything in this wretched world.”  
  
”Then why—?”  
  
”Why haven't I killed myself?” There was a nasty silence. ”I don't know. Perhaps I'm afraid of death?” He let out a harsh laughter, and Daniel saw him shake his head. ”No, perhaps not. If I were to die, as my kind dies, what guarantee is there I'd be allowed to see her? As you are fond of reminding me, I am a murderer; I'm not worthy of even thinking of her.”  
  
The baron fell quiet abruptly, his voice seeming catch in his throat. Daniel felt a terrible surge of pity towards the man; silhouetted against the fire he seemed nothing but a thin old man with his back bent, world-weary and resigned.  
  
”I see much of myself in you,” Alexander went on quietly. ”All those years after her passing, I, too, kept wishing some force would remove me from this earth so that we might be together once more. I welcomed the thought of death; it seemed preferable to living. I know you yearn to see your sister again, much as I yearn to see my wife.”  
  
”There is hardly anything wrong with that,” Daniel interrupted, but he couldn't keep the doubt out of his voice.  
  
”Isn't there? It is not for us to know the end of our days, nor to decide how much time is given to us. The only thing we can do is live them as best as we can – each and every day. There is nothing wrong with mourning, Daniel, but it cannot be a veil that separates you from the life you should be living.”  
  
The younger man sighed again, but didn't answer.  
  
”If it's a release from your life that you want, I cannot be the one to give it to you,” Alexander said.  
  
”I don't know what I want anymore.” He got up slowly, walking to the baron. The elder continued leaning against the fireplace without turning to look at him. Tentatively, only half-aware of what he was doing, Daniel wrapped his arms around the baron's waist, leaning against his back. He could feel the other man's back stiffen at the sudden touch. ”I'm sorry about all of this. Will you let me stay?”  
  
”Alright,” the elder said finally. He exhaled slowly, gradually relaxing against him. ”What are you doing?”  
  
”I don't know,” Daniel admitted, burying his face in the baron's hair. ”I used to hug my sister like this when she was sad. I guess it's a reflex.”  
  
Alexander prised his hands off his waist with surprising gentleness, and finally turned to face him. The firelight cast most of his face in shadows, but Daniel thought he saw the same confusion, the same question reflected in the older man's eyes: _what are we?_  
  
The baron cupped his chin with one hand, tilting his head slightly. He frowned. ”You look terrible.”  
  
Daniel smiled sheepishly. ”Well, I was still bedridden yesterday.”  
  
”I can tell.”  
  
”I have never seen you with such dark circles below your eyes before,” he said critically. ”And I think you've lost some weight. You're starting to look too thin.”  
  
”Not much I can do about that, I'm afraid. Recovery takes its own time.”  
  
”I can help with that,” Alexander said with a resigned sigh, letting go of him. ”Sit down.”  
  
Daniel sat back down on the bed, the baron seating himself next to him. He shook back his sleeve, examining the inside of his own wrist for a while. Daniel watched him, slightly baffled.  
  
”Alexander? What are you—”  
  
”I'll give you a bit of my own blood,” he said. ”Vampyre blood is much more potent than human blood; it'll invigorate you and aid the healing process.”  
  
”What?” Daniel sputtered, but the baron had already bit into his wrist, fangs sinking into the pale flesh with a terrible crunching sound. The younger man watched transfixed as the elder lifted his head and his lips were stained red, small beads of blood slowly running down his arm and towards his sleeve. Wordlessly, he offered the bleeding arm towards Daniel, who was too stunned to protest.  
  
His fingers wound around the baron's wrist as though in a haze and though his mind was screaming that this was insanity, his lips were already clamped around the fresh wound. He ran his tongue over the bleeding skin and the effect was near instantaneous; the tang of iron flooded into his mouth, and a distant roaring seemed to fill his ears. He was not aware of how his grip tightened around the elder's wrist or of how his mouth clamped more hungrily around the wound as though on its own, and the blood made his head swim deliriously with a confusing blur of colours. The world seemed both out of focus yet his senses seemed sharper in a way he'd never felt before. Alexander tried to tug his hand back but he barely noticed it, his thirst suddenly insatiable. Somewhere in that strange mist he felt more than heard words that were not his, bursting into his consciousness, echoing strangely.  
  
_You've had enough!  
  
_ It's never enough, Daniel thought, holding onto the hand tighter.  
  
_Stop it, you fool!  
  
_ You can't force me.  
  
_Enough is enough!  
  
_ And suddenly his head was yanked back roughly and the mist seemed to clear almost immediately. He was breathing heavily and there was something wet dripping down his chin. The world came into clearer focus gradually, and he realised Alexander had separated him from his bleeding hand. Daniel was only half-aware of the stinging pain at the back of his head that indicated the elder had had to pull at his hair.  
  
”That's quite enough,” Alexander said harshly, just as out of breath as Daniel. He seemed oddly flushed; colour had crept on his visage and his eyes glowed like embers in the dim light. Daniel continued staring at him in a glazed sort of way and the baron let go of his hair, leaning away from him.  
  
”That… that felt…” He suddenly couldn't figure out what to say. ”I think I heard things.”  
  
”You heard me,” the baron said stiffly, pulling down his sleeve over the wound. ”I was trying to get you to pull away.”  
  
Daniel blinked owlishly. ”You were in my head?”  
  
”The bloodletting allows us to share a consciousness, though only temporarily.”  
  
He lifted his hand to wipe his jaw, staring at it when it came away bloody. His mind was racing and suddenly he had a hundred half-formed questions tearing into different directions. ”Does that mean you could hear my thoughts, too?”  
  
”For the time being, yes.”  
  
Daniel felt a blush creeping up his face, the haze in his mind clearing up slowly. He had vague recollections of a terrible urge and of a want that seemed to only grow larger and larger as he drank, his hunger becoming overwhelming until the connection had been severed. He shifted awkwardly, and he was suddenly unpleasantly aware of how tight his trousers were.  
  
”Well,” he managed somewhat shakily, looking everywhere but at Alexander. ”I do feel less tired now. I suppose it did what it was supposed to do.”  
  
The baron seemed reluctant to look at him either and he seemed to be addressing the wall when he spoke. ”Yes, it seems so.”  
  
”Perhaps I should retire for the night. Just to be sure I don't fall ill again.” Daniel got up, hands going into his pockets. Something brushed against his fingers and he suddenly remembered the letter. ”Oh yes! The outrider delivered this today.”  
  
Alexander took the letter from him, opening it swiftly. His eyes moved rapidly from left to right as he read, his expression betraying nothing. ”It is an invitation.”  
  
”An invitation?”  
  
”An acquaintance of mine, a duke, is hosting a party in April. He is requesting my presence there.”  
  
”I see,” Daniel said. ”Actually, I wanted to ask you something.”  
  
”Something other than my forgiveness?”  
  
”Yes. I asked the outrider to arrange a carriage to town once the weather improves a bit. I was hoping to make some purchases – I'd like to improve the garden come spring, but we lack the supplies.”  
  
”That's perfectly fine,” Alexander mused. ”I'll arrange so that you have the funds you need.”  
  
”Thank you.” He gave a smart little bow, taking a step towards the door. He quite wanted to escape the room and be left alone for a bit.  
  
”One more thing, Daniel,” the baron called after him. ”I want you to visit the seamstress once you're in town. I'll write down the instructions for her.”  
  
”Instructions? What for?”  
  
Alexander met his eyes again, face splitting into a shrewd smile. ”You'll be needing a suit.”  
  
”A suit? I—” Daniel's eyes widened in horror. ”You cannot be thinking of bringing me to that party!”  
  
”Oh, yes. And my escort needs to wear his finest, after all.”  
  
Daniel could only gape at him in response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Daniel, is that denial I'm seeing? Things are getting inteeeeeense~ *excited bouncing* I had a lot of fun with this chapter, hope you guys did too. Let me know what you think! ^^ Thank you so much for all your comments, kudos and bookmarks so far, it's really encouraging and makes me even more motivated to keep writing this story. You guys are the best! <3
> 
> I've been traveling around a lot for the past two weeks, first to a really big convention and then a family wedding right afterwards, and I'm honestly in need of some peace and quiet after all that social buzzing, I've barely been home at all. So I'll be taking a much needed break next week (because I really need some me-time), but rest assured the story will continue! The next chapter will be up between the 22nd and 24th, so stay tuned!
> 
> PS. in case you need some more Amnesia while waiting for the next chapter, feel free to visit my Amnesia-related blog on Tumblr: nereiarts.tumblr.com


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'I fall in love with you, eternity comes to an end  
> The joy and the pain of living begins  
> In the light'
> 
> Kalafina – fairytale

_February 1841_

It was only several weeks later when the weather finally yielded and made way for a wave of tentative warmth that allowed the snow to start melting. One last snowstorm had fallen so thickly over the castle late in January that it had been nigh on impossible to enter the grounds for some days. Daniel had thought the storm would never blow itself out, but one morning he'd woken to find the snow had turned to rain overnight, and in the matter of days the grounds had turned wet and muddy.

True to his promise, Gabriel had arranged his ride into Altstadt as soon as the weather allowed it. Once the worst of the mud on the roads had dried the outrider had ridden through the gates to inform him his carriage would be there the next afternoon. Thus Daniel put on his travel clothes the next morning and packed only a small bag of money and some personal supplies and waited patiently on the courtyard until the carriage came swaying up the path towards the castle.  
  
The horses came to a halt in front of the gates, tossing their heads. The rider hopped down from his seat and took off his hat in greeting. ”Good-day to you, sir. You wanted to get to Altstadt?”  
  
”Yes,” Daniel said with a nod. ”I have some business I need to take care of.”  
  
The rider opened the door, took the bag from him and lifted it inside. ”Best to get going, then. The ride takes some time. Will you be staying overnight?”  
  
”Yes. I've understood there's an inn in town?”  
  
”Der Mühle,” the rider said acknowledgeably. ”Do you want to head there directly?”  
  
”I'd appreciate it. I'd best book a room before anything else.”

The rider nodded, climbing back up on the seat as Daniel got on and slammed the door shut after himself. In a matter of moments the carriage took off again, the horses making for the forest on a brisk trot. For a brief moment Daniel had a wonderful view of the valleys below, like a vast patchwork of white and green, until the woods swallowed the carriage entirely and there were nothing but trees to be seen.  
  
The ride took nearly two hours. Daniel dozed in his seat, soon growing weary of the unchanging landscape, waking when he heard the rider shout something and realised they were speeding through the countryside surrounding Altstadt. A rider on horseback sped past them, waving his hand as he went. Fields surrounded them on both sides and on the distance he could see large farm houses. It did not take long until the main road split into several more roads and he started seeing more and more houses around them, and finally they rose onto a hill overlooking the village. Below, a narrow stream gleamed in pale spring sunlight. Smoke was rising from several chimneys, and Daniel noted that he was growing hungry.  
  
In a matter of minutes the carriage lurched into a stop in front of a large, two-storey wooden building. Daniel was glad to get out of the carriage and stretch his legs, his travel-weary body yearning movement.  
  
”Thank you so much,” he said to the rider, pressing some coins to his outstretched hand. ”Can you pick me up from here tomorrow at noon?”  
  
”No problem, sir,” the rider said jovially, pocketing the coins.  
  
The brunette was glad to find the inn quite empty of travelers. He sat down for a simple meal in the dining hall a moment later, reading through the notes Alexander had written for the seamstress as he ate. The instructions didn't tell him much; the baron's order was very specific with the materials, colours and fit, and Daniel had an unpleasant feeling his new garderobe would turn out to be something unreasonably gaudy. He already felt uncomfortable about the party though it was still two months away, and was only vaguely aware of the townspeople muttering in other tables and shooting furtive glances at him.  
  
The rest of his day was spent running errands. The town wasn't large but the houses were spread out enough, and the walk to the seamstress' shop took some twenty minutes. His pockets felt lighter already – he had placed his orders with a local gardener for a goodly sum of gold. As he passed through the village square he felt eyes boring into his back, and his ears caught pieces of poorly concealed conversations.  
  
”It's the baron's dog.”  
  
”Why would he employ a foreigner?”  
  
”He should just run back to the castle if he knows what's good for him.”  
  
Daniel frowned, but thought it best to act like he hadn't heard anything. The villagers did not seem particularly aggressive despite their mutterings and he doubted anyone would attack him openly, but it seemed wiser to be quick about his business and return to the inn as early as possible.  
  
He paused to ask directions from a middle-aged woman, and a few minutes later he'd reached the seamstress' shop.  
  
”Good-day,” Daniel called as he stepped in. The shop was small and very crowded, filled with rolls of fabric leaning against the walls and half-dressed mannequins clustered in one corner.  
  
”Good-day, sir,” the seamstress answered, appearing from the back room. She was a portfly, middle-aged woman with her bushy hair tied on an unkempt bun, and something about her mannerism vividly reminded him of Herbert. ”What can I do for you?”  
  
”I have an order from the baron,” Daniel said, handing the instructions to the woman. ”He has requested my presence at a social gathering of some formality. I need something suitable for the occasion.”  
  
”Ah, you'll be the baron's caretaker, I assume? Yes, yes, I was wondering about your accent. We don't see foreigners here very often,” she replied, trotting behind her counter as she read the instructions. Unlike the villagers Daniel had heard talking behind his back, the seamstress seemed excited about his presence. ”Yes, he's requesting a formal suit for the occasion. I can certainly do it, but I have to warn you, it'll cost you a pretty penny.”  
  
”That's not a problem,” the Englishman said airily. He pulled a bag from his pocket and placed it on the counter. ”This should cover the costs, I'm sure.”  
  
The seamstress opened the bag, quickly counting the coins. She smiled approvingly. ”It's always a delight to work for the baron,” she confessed. ”He pays generously.”  
  
”I'm glad to hear you approve, madam.”  
  
”We'll need to take some measurements. Follow me,” the seamstress said, bustling into the back room. It was smaller and even more crowded than the shop itself, and Daniel tried not to knock over anything as he lifted his arms to the lady's instructions. She jotted down notes as they proceeded, then started pulling out rolls of fabric and holding them up, seemingly comparing them to Daniel's complexion.  
  
”Green, definitely green,” the little woman muttered to herself after what felt like twenty different colours. Daniel was starting to feel tired just standing still and thought longingly of a proper supper.  
  
”Madam, may I ask you something?” he said as the seamstress was bent over her notes.  
  
”Ask away, sir, ask away.”  
  
”Would you say that the baron is unpopular? I heard people talking on my way here.”  
  
The seamstress snorted loudly, shaking her head. ”People will always complain about everything. Pay it no mind, sir. Baron Alexander keeps to himself and because of that, some people like to say he's too self-important to bother himself with us common folk. Me, I have no problem with him. He keeps our taxes reasonable and has always paid a good commission for all the work I've done for him.”  
  
”It did seem quite strange,” Daniel agreed. ”The baron has been nothing but a good master so far.”  
  
”He has, hasn't he?” the seamstress nodded tad pompously. ”Personally, the only thing I care about is whether my customer pays well or not. It ought to be enough for the rest of us, too.”  
  
The measurements took a while. The seamstress promised to bring the suit for fitting, along with their fixed velvet curtains, in a few weeks, and Daniel returned to the inn just in time for supper.  
  
He was just about to start eating when a familiar voice called his name. He looked up, finding the outrider approaching him with a tankard of ale.  
  
”Mind if I join you?” the outrider asked.  
  
”Not at all. Sit down.”  
  
”Seems like the journey was alright, then?”  
  
Daniel shrugged, mouth full of mashed turnips. ”As alright as travel can be. It's tiresome business.”  
  
”That it is,” Gabriel agreed, shifting into a more comfortable position. He leaned closer, dropping his voice. ”Actually, I needed to tell you something.”  
  
”What is it?”  
  
The outrider looked around, but there was no one sitting close enough to eavesdrop. ”It might be for the best if you avoided wandering around much. You'll be returning to the castle tomorrow, right?”  
  
”Around noon,” Daniel confirmed, speaking quietly. ”Is this something to do with Alexander's unpopularity?”  
  
”So you've noticed.”  
  
”I heard people talking when I was out earlier,” he nodded. ”What was that all about? The seamstress spoke of the locals finding the baron too distant.”  
  
Gabriel laughed harshly, shaking his head. He took a long sip from his tankard before replying. ”People are superstitious, Daniel. There have been disappearances in the area for as long as we can remember, and people talk. They think it's something to do with the baron, that he kidnaps travelers and locals alike for some wicked purpose of his.”  
  
”People don't actually believe something that stupid, do they?” the Englishman asked, trying to sound unconcerned.  
  
”Common people can be simple-minded,” the outrider said seriously. ”The area is forested and naturally haunted by the dark. You've seen how the road to the castle is; even one familiar with the area could easily fall to his death if he's not careful, and it's nigh on impossible to find someone if they get lost in the woods. It's no wonder missing people are rarely found in this terrain.”  
  
Daniel sighed, putting down his spoon. ”So the villagers are suspicious about my being here.”  
  
”Simply put, yes.”  
  
”Thanks for telling me, Gabriel. I'll make sure to stay indoors until it's time for me to depart.”  
  
”That might be for the best,” the outrider said. ”It's best not to arouse any unnecessary curiousity around here.”  
  
With those grim parting words in mind, Daniel was quite glad to leave the village the next day. The ride back to Brennenburg wasn't particularly comfortable in the rattling and swaying carriage, but at least he could get away from the suspicious villagers.

* * *

  
There was a knock on Daniel's door that night when he sat comfortably in front of the fire, trying to forget the discomforts of traveling.  
  
”Come in,” he said without looking up from the book he was reading.  
  
He could hear the door open and close with a faint creak, a draft of cooler air entering the drawing room. ”I see you have returned,” came Alexander's voice.  
  
”Did you have any doubts?”  
  
”No,” the baron mused. ”I had simply expected you to remain in town for at least a few days. You hadn't left Brennenburg once since your arrival in October.”  
  
Daniel shrugged, snapping his book shut and setting it on the table beside him. ”I finished my business early, and there truly isn't much to do in Altstadt.” He turned to look at the elder. ”Come and sit down. I cannot keep addressing your midriff if we are to have a conversation.”  
  
Alexander chuckled softly and pulled up the chair next to his, sitting down. He sat with his hands on his lap, peering at the brunette. ”You have something on your mind.”  
  
”I heard some unsavoury rumours in town,” Daniel confessed.  
  
”I see.”  
  
He met the elder's calm stare and had a sneaking suspicion that the other man already knew. ”The villagers are suspicious of you. I was told there have been disappearances near Brennenburg.”  
  
Alexander inclined his head but said nothing.  
  
”They… They think you're somehow involved. I didn't feel welcome.”  
  
”No, I imagine you did not,” the baron said quietly. ”Did they approach you?”  
  
Daniel shook his head. ”I could tell the people were watching me, but I only ever heard mutterings. It didn't seem wise to remain in town any longer than necessary, however.”  
  
The baron sighed, leaning back in his seat. His eyes flitted towards the tall flames in the fireplace and he watched them pensively for a long while before answering. ”You were probably right. Thank you for telling me this, Daniel.”  
  
The younger man continued watching him. Alexander's face betrayed no emotion; only his eyes seemed to flicker like smouldering embers in the firelight. His skin was eerily white in the dimness of the room, his stillness so perfect that he could have been carved of marble.  
  
Finally, after what felt like hours, Daniel cleared his throat. ”There is more I'd like to discuss.”  
  
”Isn't there always?” the baron muttered under his breath.  
  
The Englishman ignored him. ”Are the rumours true? About the missing people, I mean.”  
  
”And what would you do if I were to say yes?” the baron said dryly. ”Would it upset you? Would we find ourselves arguing once again?”  
  
”I just want the truth.”  
  
Alexander sighed again, closing his eyes. ”You know as well as I do that I cannot feed as often as I should. Sometimes, travelers get lost in these woods...”  
  
”And sometimes it's you who finds them first.”  
  
The baron nodded. Daniel gaped at him, mind racing. He thought back on his arrival in Brennenburg, of the palpable sense of power that had radiated from the baron when they'd first met, and something clicked in place.  
  
”When we first met,” he said slowly. ”You must have had fed recently. I remember how you looked – what your presence felt like.”  
  
”And what did it feel like?”  
  
”Overwhelming. Compelling, somehow; like a charm. It's hard to describe.”  
  
Alexander returned his gaze, the amber eyes boring into his. Somewhere at the back of his mind Daniel felt the familiar tug of the vampyre's power, and his mouth felt oddly dry, as though suddenly gripped by a terrible thirst.  
  
”A charm,” the baron repeated, his expression almost curious, and the younger man felt his visage reddening. Slowly, the elder got up, walking towards Daniel. He bent closer to the other man, hands on the arm rests. ”And how does my presence feel now, Daniel? Do I still overwhelm you?”  
  
He opened his mouth, trying to find his voice, but no words came to him. The baron was so tantalisingly close, so close that either of them could have easily closed the remaining distance between them. Daniel faltered, finally wrenching his gaze away.  
  
”I don't know,” he whispered. The words seemed to catch in his throat, and the rhythm of his heart picked up again, making him feel strangely out of breath. ”What are we to each other, Alexander?”  
  
The question hung heavily between them, and Alexander leaned closer, resting his forehead against the brunette's. ”I had hoped you could tell me that,” the elder answered quietly.  
  
”I'd hoped that, too.” Daniel let out a resigned sigh and gently pushed him away. The baron straightened, walking to stand in front of the fire instead.  
  
”Did you speak with the seamstress?” he asked after a long pause.  
  
”Yes. She'll come over for the fitting in a week or two.”  
  
The baron nodded, eyes fixed on the flames again. ”I thought she might. I trust that you'll not let her in on anything she doesn't need to know.”  
  
”You can trust me.”  
  
Alexander nodded again, absent-mindedly. He bent down and tossed another log into the fire where the flames quickly engulfed it. Daniel could feel the renewed heat of the fire dancing on his face, slowly seeping into his bones and making him feel sleepier than before. The thought of his warm bed suddenly sounded appealing, its puffy pillows and hand-woven quilts beckoning him into their embrace. He blinked, a thought suddenly striking him.  
  
”I've been wondering about something,” he said dubiously. ”You told me once that Brennenburg's interiors were built to a more modern style, yet your private quarters have hardly even half the flourish than the servants' wing. It seems illogical.”  
  
”That's because the left wing was not originally built for servants but for the baron and his family.”  
  
”Does that mean that you reside—”  
  
”In the servants' quarters? Yes. And incidentally, you have what used to be my room.”  
  
Daniel made a face. ”No wonder I feel out of place here. It is a little grandiose for my standing.”  
  
”Don't be too eager to put yourself down, Daniel,” the baron said, and though Daniel could not see his face, he could tell the elder was amused. ”Don't forget that you'll accompany me to the duke's party; I'll need you to act the part.”  
  
”What should I do? I'm not entirely familiar with the customs of that sort,” he confessed.  
  
”You needn't do anything. You'll be there as my escort, so simply act like you belong there. My status will guarantee that no one will question your presence as long as you are with me.”  
  
”Am I to understand that I'm expected to cling to your side and accompany you the whole night?”  
  
Alexander laughed, turning around to face him. His amusement only seemed to grow in the face of his clear indignation. ”Worry not, Daniel. I shall not begrudge you should you wish for some privacy to entertain the ladies.”  
  
”That's not… I didn't mean—”  
  
But the baron only grinned at his helpless sputtering. Alexander made for the door, pausing only to ruffle the Englishman's hair as he passed him. The brunette glared after him.  
  
”Goodnight, Daniel. I shall leave you to rest.”  
  
”You'd better,” he muttered. ”You are starting to irritate me.”  


* * *

  
It took only a week for the remaining snow to melt entirely. The warming weather revealed patches of brown, soggy earth, and just a quick tour around the grounds revealed how much care it would take to restore the yard into anything even resembling a garden. The sight did not improve Daniel's spirits much, but he begrudgingly admitted that much of the castle's grandeur was lost if no one attended to the grounds.  
  
”Alexander needs to hire a gardener,” he muttered darkly one afternoon, buried down to his crooked nose in a book about trimming rose bushes.  
  
It was still much too early in the year to do any real improvements on the garden, but he did what he could to tear down the dry vines of ivy climbing up the castle walls, erecting poles for them to climb up instead. With some luck, perhaps their growth could be directed into more desirable locations. He examined critically the empty expanse of wall that he now knew to hide Alexander's quarters, deciding that the lack of windows should be hidden with foliage as much as possible.  
  
Whatever remained of the old flowerbeds was a different problem altogether. They had been allowed to grow freely, taking over pathways in the grounds, and it wasn't once or twice that he even found pieces of old, shattered flower pots, half-buried underneath shrubs and roots or jutting from the black soil. Three days and two heavily bandaged hands later Daniel had succeeded in clearing up the flowerbeds, which now lay waiting for new flowers to be planted.  
  
It was another windy afternoon when the whinnying of horses put a stop to his chores. The brunette got up gingerly, trying to convince his legs to cooperate after an hour of crouching in front of the grave markers. He quickly gathered his tools into a bucket and made for the gates, where a carriage stood waiting. As he got closer the carriage door opened and the portly town seamstress climbed down, carrying a large bag. She waved at him cheerfully with her free hand.  
  
”Good-day, sir,” she hollered over the wind. ”It's time for your fitting. I hope the timing suits you.”  
  
”Today works fine, madam,” he replied, still carrying the bucket. ”I would offer you a helping hand, but I'm afraid they're both in need of a proper scrub first.”  
  
”Busy in the garden, eh, sir?”  
  
”There is a lot to do in preparation for summer. The garden has seen better days, if I'm honest.” He glanced up at the rider. ”I assume this will take a moment, sir. Would you like to come in for a warm drink while the good seamstress is busy at work?”  
  
”Gladly, sir,” the rider said, climbing down as well. They brought the horses and the carriage to wait in the courtyard, filling an old trough with water for the horses, and Daniel escorted both the seamstress and the rider into the great entrance hall. He prepared a quick pot of tea for them and, as an afterthought, laid all the necessities on a tray and decided to bring it along.  
  
”Please follow me,” he told them, the tray steady in his now soil-free hands. ”We might as well do this in my quarters. The castle is still chilly at this time of the year, and I think we could all do with something warm to drink.”  
  
”Well thought, good sir,” the seamstress agreed, and Daniel lead them into his drawing room. They both gaped a great deal at the lavishly paneled walls and the lacquered furniture, and the Englishman saw no reason to interrupt their wide-eyed admiration while he got a fire going.  
  
”Feel free to sit down, sir” he told the rider, who took off his hat and flung himself on a chair right in front of the fire, obviously enjoying the sudden warmth. The seamstress had lifted her bag on the sofa and was already taking out her tools. ”Would you prefer to have a cup of tea before you set to work, madam?”  
  
”No, thank you, sir; I think we should get this out of the way first. There is time for a drink afterwards.” She handed him what looked like a bundle of cloth. ”Put these on first, and do watch out for the pins.”  
  
He retreated into the bedroom and dressed as quickly as he could. The seamstress had only handed him a pair of trousers, made of thick, chestnut brown fabric, and a white shirt with a collar higher than what he was used to. The trousers, he noted, fit a lot more snugly than any of his other trousers, and it was with some self-consciousness that he re-entered the drawing room.  
  
The seamstress looked him up and down critically, hands on her waist. ”Not bad,” she observed. ”The collar needs a cravat, of course, but all in a good time. Come here, I need to adjust the pins.”  
  
He barely dared to breathe as she fussed around him, tugging at seams here and there, pins held tight between her lips. She took in cloth from several places, he noted, until she seemed satisfied.  
  
”Much better now. You are a little bit on the skinny side, sir,” she said, one brow quirked. ”Does the baron feed you properly?”  
  
Daniel laughed, slightly embarrassed. The little seamstress was truly starting to remind him of Herbert. ”I feed us both, good madam. The baron is too old and frail to be of much assistance.”  
  
”Ah, the poor old man,” she sighed with a little shake of her head. ”I suppose he's resting again?”  
  
”Yes. He spends most of his time bedridden, I'm afraid. I would have roused him otherwise upon your arrival.”  
  
”No need, good sir, no need. Let the baron have his rest.”  
  
The seamstress conjured a waistcoat next, one with a low-cut shawl collar and two-breasted buttoning. The colour was a deep moss green, and the woman seemed very pleased with herself as he put it on.  
  
”I knew green was your colour, sir,” she said in her pompous manner, working on the buttons. ”It flatters your complexion.”  
  
”Glad to hear that you think so, madam,” he answered. He hadn't the faintest idea what she meant.  
  
”I was aiming to bring out your slim figure. You can congratulate yourself for not needing a corset, good sir. Most of my customers require one to reach the desired look.”  
  
Daniel winced at the thought, unconsciously placing a hand on his ribs. ”I think my ribs are grateful for the absence of the corset.”  
  
The seamstress snorted. ”Worry not, sir. You'll do quite well without one.”  
  
The overcoat she dressed him in was a shade of red so deep that it looked almost black in certain lighting. It was a tight fit at the cuffs, loosening up considerably at the shoulders to make movement easier, and he found he quite liked it. He fidgeted with the large buttons at the front, and the seamstress slapped his hands away before he could button it up.  
  
”The baron likes his burgundies, as you may have noticed, and I wanted your colours to match his. Every single guest should be able to tell with one glance that you're part of the same party,” she stated matter-of-factly, and Daniel flushed despite himself. The seamstress didn't seem to notice and she wasted no time moving her pins around, loosening and tightening the seams at her leisure until she was satisfied. The rider sipped his tea behind them, happily oblivious to the seamstress' chatter.  
  
After what felt like an eternity the seamstress pronounced herself done, ushering Daniel to change back into his own dayclothes. He obliged thankfully, arms aching from holding them up for so long. He could tell the seamstress was a true craftsman, her stitching as careful as it was intricate, but he was much happier in his own modest wardrobe.  
  
It was nearly nightfall when they finally enjoyed their tea, sitting down with the rider. After all that standing a warm cup of tea was bliss, and Daniel closed his eyes briefly, enjoying the crackling fire and the quiet banter of his unusual companions.  
  
”You'll need a hat with the suit, of course,” the seamstress was saying, draining the last dregs of her cup. ”A proper gentleman does not come into a party without a hat. Do you know how to wear a cravat properly?”  
  
”Yes, madam,” he said mellowly. ”I own a few. One of them should be suitable for the occasion.”  
  
She nodded approvingly. ”Very good. And do remember the curtains I repaired for you; they're folded and ready on the sofa, as nice as I could make them.”  
  
”Of course, madam.”  
  
The seamstress smoothed her dress, setting down her empty cup. ”Well then, I believe we should make our way back to town before it gets too dark.”  
  
”I'd find the way in the middle of the night if need be,” the rider said calmly. They all got up and Daniel escorted them through the darkening halls, carrying the seamstress' bag all the way to the carriage. Once she and her luggage had been safely helped inside Daniel slipped the rider a few coins for his troubles, waved them both goodbye and watched as the carriage slowly disappeared into the growing shadows of the surrounding forests.  
  
”I see we've had guests,” a voice commented. He turned around, finding Alexander at the doorway, hands behind his back as he stared at the spot where the carriage had vanished.  
  
”The seamstress visited,” Daniel said, shrugging. ”The suit you commissioned was ready for fitting.”  
  
”How was it?”  
  
The brunette thought for a while, brows furrowed. ”Burgundy,” he said uncertainly. ”And much too posh for my liking.  
  
Alexander chuckled, his eyes gleaming in the growing darkness. ”I will take your word for it. Come back indoors, Daniel. There is a certain piece for the piano I'd like you to hear.”  
  
”It would be my pleasure, sir.”  
  
”Alexander,” the baron corrected, holding the door open for him.  
  
”Alexander,” Daniel repeated, and warmth pooled at the pit of his stomach as the name rolled off his tongue. Their eyes locked with one another, and the brunette allowed himself to be whisked away into the awaiting warmth of the silent castle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, I'm back! We're back on track and I'll try to keep the updates to once a week as before. ^^ I'll be flying to Finland next Tuesday for three weeks (time to see family and friends, whee!) but since my laptop's coming along, writing shouldn't be a problem while I'm there.
> 
> This chapter is a bit of a reminder that there is a world outside of Brennenburg, a world that not even someone living in the most remote of places can entirely ignore. It was good to write Daniel interacting with other people for a change. See you guys next week, hope you enjoyed this chapter!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'These your arms of daring grace  
> Encircle me, what pact is made  
> Desire is your masquerade  
> Want me you never will'
> 
> Vienna Teng – Unwritten Letter #1

_March 1841_

With little more than a month to the duke's party, Daniel felt his nerves mounting considerably. He had given up on trying to weasel his way out of it; the baron seemed to have made up his mind, and his refusal would have only seemed ungrateful now. One look at his new suit had told him the waistcoat alone was more expensive than any other piece of clothing he'd ever owned. It was more than enough to dampen his mood, even moreso than the unyielding rains that fell heavily on Brennenburg at the turn of the month.

”How are we getting there?” he'd asked Alexander one evening, not too long after the seamstress' visit.  
  
”I have arranged a carriage to pick us up at nightfall.”

”Is it not dangerous for you to travel? I mean, don't we need to stop somewhere to rest for the sunlight hours?”  
  
The baron had shaken his head. ”The duke's mansion isn't too far from Altstadt. We'll be back before dawn.”  
  
”Are you sure?” Daniel had asked skeptically.  
  
”Trust me. I have made this journey many times before.”  
  
Alexander made no mention of it, but the Englishman had gotten the impression that he wasn't entirely happy about the invitation, either. The letter bore an impressive coat of arms, and Daniel's blood ran cold when he recognised the name of the Hohenzollern family. He wasn't familiar enough with the ranks within the Prussian nobility to be sure of the duke's exact status, but he had a nasty feeling nevertheless that Alexander was in no position to turn down an invitation from someone associated with the royal family.  
  
When the spring rains finally relented and the clouds broke apart to reveal patches of blue sky, Daniel nearly managed to forget about the party. He had a task in mind that he'd been waiting for the past few months; restoring the graves. And so on one particularly warm spring's day he rolled up his sleeves and headed for the lonely corner on the grounds. He spent a good long while crouched down in front of the old stones, scrubbing away years of moss. Little by little the names of the people resting there came to view, and when he was done, the headstones looked as though they'd only just been placed there.  
  
Wind caught in his hair as he sat on the grass, admiring the results. Once the wagons came with his supplies he could finally plant something wortwhile on the graves. He had requested the gardener in town for something that would bloom for several years in succession. Hopefully, the man would think to send instructions with his wares.  
  
Daniel bit into a piece of bread, chewing thoughtfully. It had seemed a waste to spend such a pleasant day indoors, and he had brought a small lunch with him to the grounds. There was a hint of early spring in the air, and the nights had steadily gotten warmer and warmer. Soon enough the nightly frost wouldn't be a worry anymore and he could safely start planning the reconstructions of the garden.

He quickly brushed off the crumbs, reached for the satchel he'd brought along and pulled out paper, a quill and an ink bottle. He carefully pried open the bottle, setting it on the ground, and tipped the quill in the ink. The paper seemed emptier and emptier the longer he stared at it. He knew he'd already put off answering to Herbert for much longer than was polite, but he couldn't think of what to say.  
  
_'To my good friend and colleague Herbert',_ he began, carefully marking the date at the corner of the page. Perhaps it was tad formal, considering how long they'd known each other, but his mind was curiously empty of ideas. _'Thank you for writing to me. It was a delight to hear from you and_ _to_ _have something to remember dear old England by, though I am happy to admit I've learned to call Brennenburg a home over these past months. I hope my letter finds you well. I have been_ _—_ _'_ He paused suddenly, not knowing how to continue.  
  
Busy, perhaps? It was such an impersonal, blasé thing to say. Colleagues or not, it seemed almost rude to steer away from all personal notion and only write about his work. Satisfied? Excited? Or could he say he was happy? Daniel didn't know the answer. He knew he felt at peace in the castle; the horizon that seemed to stretch on forever, the distant valleys, the embrace of the vast woodlands around him soothed that aching in his heart that never seemed to heal elsewhere. He found himself looking up at the sky, as blue as a forget-me-not, and realised, quite suddenly, that he felt more at ease than he had since Hazel's passing. But happy?  
  
He frowned at the paper, quill hovering in mid-air. The unfinished sentence seemed to pose a question, and he didn't know how to answer it.

* * *

  
It was in mid-March that the outrider delivered another stack of letters to Alexander, and the finished suit to Daniel. The outfit, with all its items, had been carefully packaged into a small crate, and he dressed the finely tailored costume on an old, frayed mannequin he'd found from one of the tool sheds. The thing creeped him out; it didn't have its head intact anymore but it stood nearly as tall as him nevertheless. Still, the suit was much too fine to risk any creases until the night of the party, and he pushed the mannequin into an empty corner of his drawing room where he at least wouldn't have to see it.  
  
He had to admit the items were of excellent quality; he ran his hands on the thick weave of the overcoat, revelling on the knowledge that he would get to wear it. For once, he wouldn't be a poor carpenter's son in his patched trousers and an overlarge shirt but like one of the baron's kin. He'd move among the high-born as though he was one of them, as though he had spent all his days in idleness and luxury and had never tasted the bitterness of hunger on his tongue. If he didn't say too much, if he only listened, smiled vapidly and drank his wine in their enthralling company, perhaps he could fool them.  
  
The idea of walking in the midst of the nobility made him giddy with nerves, but it was such thrilling nervousity that he began to look forward to it, and the nervousity seeped into his unconscious mind.  
  
And whenever he dreamt, he dreamt of a masquerade.  
  
It was the same dream, over and over. He wove between masked dancers, their cold, white faces shining in the light of a thousand candles. Frivously dressed ladies held up their gloved hands in front of their mouths, giggling at his struggles to reach the edge of the ballroom, their dance partners sneering at him. He found his way blocked by a horde of dancers, the wide crinolines making it impossible to go any further.  
  
A hand tapped his shoulder and he turned, finding himself face to face with a lady in a spider-like mask.

 _'Lost, my darling?'_ she trilled with a voice as chilling as winter frost.

_'I cannot find the way.'_

_'And where do you want to go, darling?'_

_'Further.'_  
  
She laughed, a sound entirely devoid of joy. _'The only way further is by joining us.'_ And then she grabbed his hands roughly and spun him around, and he felt himself tossed around like a ragdoll, weightless, passed from dancer to dancer whose masked faces became one big, leering blur in his eyes. He tried to wrench himself free but their hands were all over his, pulling, tugging, pushing, demanding, and he gave in to the swaying music.  
  
_'Wait! I must get there!'_ he shouted even as the dancers pulled him towards the centre of the room but they only laughed, a hollow choir of echoing voices that soon got lost underneath the music. The walls were becoming more and more distant but the death grip on his hands did not relent.  
  
' _Please let me go!'_ he pleaded feebly. _'I must reach the edge!'_  
  
'Daniel?' a familiar voice called to him, cutting over all the other voices. The brunette tried to turn around, looking for the source of the voice.  
  
_'Alexander? Where are you?'_  
  
_'You need to wake up.'_  
  
_'What?'_

”Wake up, Daniel,” the baron's voice said again.

Somewhere out of sight something slammed loudly and he started, and quite suddenly found himself lying spread-eagled on his bed. It took him a few moments to adjust to the darkness and realise what he was seeing was the canopy of his bed. The sound of the crackling fire was welcoming after the repetitive melody in his dream and he sighed in relief.

”You were flailing around a lot,” Alexander was saying. ”Did you have a bad dream?”  
  
”Of sorts,” Daniel grunted, pushing himself into a sitting position. He was dismayed to notice he'd dozed off in his dayclothes again.  
  
”Would you like to talk about it?”  
  
He shook his head and rubbed his eyes lightly. ”No need, really. It wasn't anything specific. What did you want, Alexander?”  
  
”I require a service from you.”  
  
”Oh? What is it?”  
  
The baron fixed a steady gaze at him, his eyes almost blazing in the darkness. The intensity of his stare was such that Daniel could nearly feel the power radiating from him, and he blushed up to his hairline. Weakly, he nodded, and Alexander walked slowly towards him.  
  
”May I?” the elder murmured.  
  
”Of course,” Daniel managed, his mouth feeling curiously dry. The baron climbed on the bed with one smooth movement, hands cupping the Englishman's jaw and tilting back his head. This close it was easy to see how his face had followed with hunger once again.  
  
”I do not wish to take too much,” Alexander said quietly, something akin to worry etched deep into his features. ”Just enough to sustain me.”  
  
”It's alright. Take it,” Daniel whispered back. He didn't know why but he placed his own hand over the baron's, giving it a reassuring squeeze. The elder's gaze softened, just briefly, and he bent closer, pressing a soft kiss on the younger man's cheek. The touch was so cold against his skin that Daniel shivered.  
  
Somehow, Alexander's arms wound around him and lowered him back on the bed, the motion so smooth, so natural that it was as though neither of them needed to think about it. The baron brushed his hair off his neck and carefully unbuttoned the brunette's shirt until he was bare to the chest. Alexander ran a finger across his jugular, a motion that made him hold his breath.  
  
”You'll come to no harm,” the baron said softly, barely loud enough for Daniel to hear him. The elder's nose nuzzled briefly against his ear and he pressed soft, caressing kisses across his neck, until finding what he wanted. ”I promise.” And then he was sinking his fangs into his skin and Daniel's arms were around him, squeezing tight, fingers clawing into his shirt with the desperation of a drowning man.  
  
The Englishman wasn't aware of his accelerated breathing or of the cold sweat suddenly clinging to his skin. Somewhere on the edges of his consciousness he merely heard the slow waltz, the melody from the ballroom lulling him back to sleep; it sounded deceptively like the soft rhytmn of an endless 'please, please, _please'._ And then the pain was gone as suddenly as it had come, leaving behind a soft ringing in his ears.  
  
”Are you alright?” the baron breathed, and Daniel was vaguely aware that the elder was just as out of breath as he was. The only thing his eyes could focus on was the deep red of Alexander's lips, hovering only inches from his.  
  
”Yes,” he heard himself answer. The throbbing of his sore skin seemed to be seeping further down, down, and Daniel could not quite tear his concentration away from it. His body felt tantalisingly raw, as though his very skin was too constricting. He shifted restlessly, trying to relieve the pressure, but his eyes kept being drawn to the baron's lips. Such a strange red. He wondered if the blood had turned his skin into a burning furnace yet again.  
  
”Daniel?” Alexander said, this time uncertainly. Daniel only pressed his fingertips on the elder's lips, shuddering with pleasure when scalding heat met his skin.  
  
”You are so warm again.”  
  
The baron blinked, a curtain of confusion on his face. Gently, he pushed away the younger man's hand and buttoned up his shirt. ”Go back to sleep, Daniel,” he said kindly, withdrew from the bed and pulled the covers over him.  
  
”Alright,” the Englishman agreed. He felt oddly disappointed but sudden exhaustion was pressing on him too irresistibly, and he was asleep before Alexander had left the servants' quarters.

* * *

  
Coming down with fever hadn't taken him by surprise this time and he'd stayed in bed without protesting, only appearing from the caretaker's quarters to fetch something to eat. Those days had been mostly spent asleep, and his feverish dreams had been haunted by visions of ballrooms and haughty dancers. By the time he'd fully recovered and the bite on his neck had started fading there was only a week left to the duke's party. Rain fell over the castle in heavy curtains for several days, effectively trapping Daniel inside, and when the weather finally relented the farmer arrived with his monthly deliveries.  
  
The ground was still damp in many places when he set to work at the garden. Tilling the flower beds took most of the day and by dusk his back ached unpleasantly, but he was satisfied with himself. The gardener in town had sent a variety of seeds and bulbs for flowering plants, complete with written instructions, and planting them hadn't been as difficult as Daniel had feared. Most of his concern was for the old, unkempt rose bushes; he wasn't at all sure if any of his pruning and manuring would be enough to save them. He could only hope that some of them, at least, would blossom come summer.  
  
It was with a particular sense of satisfaction that he planted a mixture of perennial and annual plants on the graves. The grave of the baroness and her stillborn child in particular would be a field of flowers; it had been easy to locate the right marker after his cleaning mission. It was a heavy black stone, larger than the others, that gleamed in sunlight now that the many layers of dirt and moss were gone, and Daniel knew it would look all the more impressive once his flowers bloomed.

* * *

  
_April 1841_

On the day of the party he woke up earlier than usual. He knew they wouldn't be departing until nightfall, when it would be safe for Alexander to emerge, but it was no good; the anticipation would only turn into anxiety if he tried to stay in bed. His attempts at falling asleep the night before had involved several hours of tossing and turning in the sheets until he'd finally passed out from sheer exhaustion. Sighing, he got up and dressed in his ordinary working clothes, the sun just peeking at the horizon.

He ate his breakfast as slowly as he could, filling and refilling his teapot over and over again until the sun was high enough for it to feel like morning. With nothing but time in his hands Daniel retreated into the library, wasting the hours reading as much as his nerves allowed.  
  
Late in the afternoon he finally returned into his quarters, heated up some water and washed as thoroughly as he could. By the time he was done his hands were red and raw from scrubbing – all those days spent in the garden seemed to have cursed him with a permanent layer of dirt under his fingernails.  
  
He stood in front of the massive mirror in his bedroom and observed his reflection critically. His hair was a good length, about two inches past his chin after a few months without trimming, but should he have done something with it? It was certainly no eye-catcher, laying lank and unstyled like this, but he hadn't the faintest inkling what to do about it. His mother would have been useful at situations like this; she would have known how better people wore their hair to social gatherings. Daniel pursed his lips, deciding it was a lost cause.

Finally, at six o'clock, he pulled out his better pair of shoes from the wardrobe and put on his new suit. He had polished the shoes until they gleamed, and now that he examined himself from the mirror, dressed from top to toe like a gentleman, he had to admit the seamstress had known exactly what he needed. He barely recognised himself underneath all the fripperies; perhaps he wouldn't have to feel embarrassed in the baron's company, after all.

”Right,” Daniel said out loud. ”I need a cravat next.”  
  
In the end he decided on a plain black one. He hadn't had the need to wear one too often, not even when he'd still lived in London, and it felt decisively weird to have something tied around his neck. He looked at Hazel's tiny portrait on the desk and gave her a smile.  
  
”Wish me luck, sister. Hopefully I won't make a fool out of myself.” She smiled back at him peacefully. Feeling slightly better about himself, Daniel put on his hat and exited the caretaker's quarters.  
  
The setting sun had made magnificent silhouettes of the trees, dyeing the corridors a blazing red. Night was approaching fast, and he wasn't too surprised to see Alexander waiting for him at the top of the stairs, where the last rays of the evening sun couldn't touch him. He was dressed in a gold-embroidered waistcoat of black silk and matching black trousers with heeled shoes. The overcoat had heavily padded shoulders and a low-cut shawl collar, smartly exposing the finely-tailored garments he wore underneath. Daniel felt his legs faltering; the elder cut a very impressive figure indeed tonight.  
  
Alexander beckoned to him as he approached, and the Englishman joined him in the shadowed spot where he stood waiting. ”It is nearly time. Are you ready?”  
  
”I think so,” he said. ”Is the carriage here yet?”  
  
”If it is, it won't harm the rider to wait a while longer,” the baron said, unconcerned. His amber eyes seemed to be taking in every inch of Daniel's appearance and the younger man wished he'd bothered with his hair after all. ”You are looking very smart tonight.”  
  
”Thank you,” the brunette said, forcing a smile. It was growing steadily darker in the entrance hall. ”And I cannot thank you enough for the suit. It's magnificent.”  
  
”Don't mention it,” Alexander replied. ”Let's go. Give me your arm.”  
  
Daniel offered his arm and the elder took it wordlessly, and they made their way down the stairs. The baron had assumed a slow, determined pace and Daniel copied him. It suddenly struck the brunette that the colour of the baron's overcoat matched his almost perfectly – the thought made him feel oddly flustered.  
  
”From now on, address me as 'sir' when there are others present,” Alexander told him. ”And I'll require your assistance in providing me support every now and then.”  
  
”Of course.”  
  
Daniel led him to the courtyard, the baron only letting go for long enough for him to open and close the main door. The carriage, pulled by four chestnut brown horses, stood waiting at the gates, and the two of them made their way slowly towards it.  
  
”Good evening, lord Baron, sir,” the rider hollered, taking off his hat respectfully. ”Are we getting ready to leave?”  
  
”Yes, thank you,” Alexander responded in a somber voice. ”Daniel, please help me inside.”  
  
The rider climbed back up to his seat and Daniel let the baron enter the carriage first, appearing to assist him. He followed suit as soon as Alexander had gotten seated and sat down, facing him. He only had the time to close the door before the carriage took off, making towards the woods. The sky was now a beautiful, deep shade of purple, and he could see stars whenever there was an opening between the trees.  
  
”It will take us quite some time to reach the duke's mansion, won't it?”  
  
”A few hours,” Alexander said, nodding. He was gazing out into the dark forest.  
  
”Is he in the Order, too?”  
  
”All members of the Hohenzollern family are.”  
  
Daniel took a steadying breath. He was starting to feel more nervous again. They traveled in silence for quite some time; Alexander seemed perfectly at ease, leaning back on his seat and watching the scenery. The brunette could only assume the elder could see better in the dark than he did, for he kept staring out of the window.  
  
”The seamstress has keen eyes,” the elder said suddenly, still keeping his eyes on the woods. ”That shade of green is very flattering on you.”  
  
”Oh. Thank you, sir,” Daniel stammered, taken aback. ”You are looking very handsome tonight, too.”  
  
Alexander blinked once, turning to look at him. There was a quizzical look in his eyes and the younger man went scarlet, suddenly realising what he had just said. The elder's face split into a small smirk but he said nothing, and the intensity of his gaze made Daniel feel like vanishing into thin air. He edged closer to the door and kept his eyes on the scenery outside, though there was very little he could make out in the darkness. The baron kept staring at him for a long time, but neither of them said anything.

* * *

  
The duke's countryside mansion was a huge white building surrounded by fields and with an alley of towering oaks flanking the road leading to its gates. Their carriage joined several others standing in front of wide stone steps leading up to the main entrance, and Daniel offered his arm to the baron once again before they made their way up towards the open doorway.  
  
”Baron Alexander von Brennenburg,” the elder told a servant standing at the door. The man bowed respectfully, apparently recognising him.  
  
”Welcome, Lord von Brennenburg. Would you like me to announce your arrival to His Grace? He has been anticipating your arrival.”  
  
”I would greatly appreciate it, thank you.”  
  
With another quick bow the servant lead them inside. The sound of a hundred voices chattering at once hit Daniel like a tidal wave, and he was suddenly very aware of how crowded it was. There were people idling all around the entrance hall, talking, drinking, and while no one seemed to quite look at them as they passed, there was always enough space for them to walk past unhindered. Daniel kept to the baron's side, allowing him to grasp his upper arm for support, and the young man tried to imitate his manner, holding his head high and his back straight, as if he belonged there.  
  
The way to the main hall did not take very long, but it was enough to make the Englishman's head spin with wonder. The air was rich with perfumes and wine, the walls covered with oil paintings even larger than those in Brennenburg, and every available surface seemed to be crammed full of expensive-looking antiques and exotic vases. The mansion was clearly meant to impress, and Daniel looked around, trying to suck in everything until he felt overwhelmed. Soon, they reached a marble staircase leading into what looked like an enormous ballroom, and their guide rushed ahead of them towards a crowd of people gathered at the other side of the room.  
  
From the corner of his eye Daniel saw a young woman examining her powdered face from a small hand mirror, and a horrible thought struck him. ”Perhaps this was too risky, sir,” he muttered to Alexander, knowing he could hear him even over the tumult of the crowd. ”What if you'll have to walk past a mirror?”  
  
”I have been here before, Daniel. There are no mirrors in this mansion.”  
  
”Why not?”  
  
The baron laughed dryly. ”Because Her Grace the duchess is very ugly; she was rendered almost unrecognisable by a pox she suffered when she was younger. The duke is too kind to leave reminders of her tragedy all over the mansion and has all mirrors taken down when his wife is here with him.”  
  
”That poor woman,” the brunette sighed.  
  
They landed in the crowded ballroom, dancing couples making way for them as they walked past and approached the servant from before who was now standing by a group of people and looking at them expectantly. Daniel had never seen a picture of the duke before but he had no difficulty guessing who he was; next to the servant stood a tall, balding man whose coat was decorated with medals. It was obvious from the way he held himself that he was a man of very high status, and he had practically had his eyes on Alexander the moment they'd entered the room.  
  
”Baron,” the duke called, approaching them. People all around turned to look at them curiously, ladies and gentlemen alike craning their necks for a better view of the newcomers, and Daniel fought to keep a straight face.  
  
”Your Grace,” Alexander responded, bowing slightly, and they shook hands. ”It was most gracious of you to invite us.”  
  
”We did not have enough time for discussion the last time you were in Bremen, my good baron.” The black eagle of the Order was clearly visible at the front of his suit. ”Who is your young companion?”  
  
”Daniel is my caretaker and here to act as my escort tonight,” the baron said, inclining his head. The duke offered his hand and Daniel shook it, bowing deeply. The man's grip was crushing, but he willed himself not to wince. He was only too glad that the duke let go quickly, clearly uninterested in him.  
  
”I welcome both of you to my humble abode,” the duke said. He had already turned back to the baron, and there was a tone of urgency in his voice when he spoke again. ”I was hoping we could sit down somewhere more private. There are matters of great importance that I must take up with you.”  
  
”Of course, your Grace.”  
  
”I'm sure your escort will find a way to amuse himself in the meantime.” He turned to address the crowd whom he'd been conversing with before their arrival. ”If you'll excuse us. My dear, Margaret, please see to it that this young man gets a drink.”  
  
Alexander and the duke left without another word to the rest of them. A girl who'd been holding the hand of a badly pock-marked elderly woman disentangled herself from the crowd and walked over to him. Her elaborate curls bounced as she curtseyed and he hastened to bow politely, taking off his hat.  
  
”Pleased to make your acquaintance, sir,” she said sweetly. ”My name is Margaret. Would you like something to drink?”  
  
”I'd be very thankful for a drink, Lady Margaret,” he replied. He observed her dimpled face and almond-shaped eyes; she couldn't be older than nineteen, and something in her demeanour reminded him of his sister. She grabbed his hand and pulled him across the room, zigzagging between dancers until they reached what looked like the banquet table. He was panting slightly from the effort of keeping up with her.  
  
”Wine for myself and for my companion,” Margaret told one of the servants manning the table. He sprang to action immediately, conjuring a tray with a wine caraf and two glasses for them. ”Let's sit down in one of the parlours. It gets too noisy in here for conversation.”  
  
The ballroom opened into several smaller rooms, nearly all of which were full of people who'd clearly had the same idea as Margaret. The servant showed into an empty room, placed the tray on the table and left them with a smart bow. The door stood ajar but the noises of the ball were pleasantly muffled. Margaret sat down and gestured for him to follow her example.  
  
”I know very little of the baron,” she said apologetically. ”My papa speaks of him occasionally, but I've never met him personally. Not until today, I mean.”  
  
”You are the duke's daughter, Lady Margaret?” Daniel asked. He poured them both some wine and handed her the other glass.  
  
”Yes. It's not as exciting as one would think really; papa is very strict.” She made a face. ”So you work for the baron, I heard. Is he strict? He seems like the stern type.”  
  
Daniel couldn't quite supress his smile. Her eagerness was of the flattering kind, and it had been a long time since he'd had a proper conversation with someone of the fairer sex. Perhaps Herbert had been right and he needed to go out more.  
  
”The baron is a kindly man, I assure you. It has been a pleasure working with him.”  
  
”Have you been working for him for a long time?”  
  
”No, only since last year. I worked as an archaeologist before moving to Prussia.”  
  
”Archaeologist?” She beamed at him, eyes as wide as tea saucers. ”Oh, do tell me more about it! You must have traveled a lot, right? I've always wanted to go abroad but papa says it's not proper for a young lady to have such aspirations. It all seems so exciting in all the books I've read, all those faraway places and peoples...”  
  
She went on a ramble about all the things she'd ever read about exotic locations and foreign lands and Daniel emptied his glass, easily imagining Hazel in her place. The parallels were so obvious that it made him smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notations:
> 
> \- The status of a duke in the Holy Roman Empire and later in Prussia was higher than that of mere nobility; they were part of the reigning nobility (Hoher Adel) and thus ranked as royalty. There were dukes who were just noblemen who'd been granted the title by the Emperor and who didn't rule a duchy (known as Titularherzog, 'duke-by-title'), but the ones born with the title, like our duke in this story, were powerful men, usually princes of the ruling dynasty, and held the dukedom before ascending to the throne. I've left the duke's identity vague here on purpose to avoid several problems with historical accuracy, and also out of respect for the Hohenzollern family – they aren't just a piece of history, they still exist today! So our duke Hohenzollern here is an entirely fictional person and a potential runner-up to the throne.
> 
> \- In any case, we can say that Alexander had powerful connections, and him being a low-ranking noble could put him in a difficult position if the reigning dynasty wants something from him. Yikes.
> 
> A/N:  
> And so the plot thickens! I've been looking forward to reaching the duke's party in this story very, very much. Things should get very exciting indeed~ Will Daniel make a fool out of himself after all? We'll find out soon enough.
> 
> Also, I'll be at the Artist Alley on Tracon 2016, Tampere this weekend with my friend Sadyna, so those of you who are Finnish or staying Finland and have tickets to the con, come say hi! ;) See you guys next week!


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Come away little lamb, come away to the water  
> To the arms that are waiting only for you  
> Come away little lamb, come away to the slaughter  
> To the ones appointed to see this through  
> We are calling for you'
> 
> Maroon 5 – Come Away To The Water

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: self-harm (non-descriptive). Proceed with caution if you are triggered by such things.

_April 1841_

Two hours later Daniel was sitting in the parlour with a gaggle of young girls, all of whom didn't seem to mind in the least that he was a servant, and who kept ordering in more wine and food as time passed. By the time he'd finished telling Margaret about his first expedition, which had been to Egypt some years previously, her friends had joined them and promptly sat down to request more stories.

He had to admit he quite enjoyed having such a keen audience.  
  
”What's Algeria like?” piped up one of the girls. A bright flush had risen to her already rouge cheeks; there was a collection of empty wine carafes littering the table.  
  
”Very hot and dry. The population is mostly French-speaking, at least in Algiers, but our expedition had many locals as helpers so I picked up some Arabic while working with them.”  
  
The girls let out a collective 'ooh' at that.  
  
”I've read the Arabian Nights,” Margaret intervened. ”It's so terribly romantic, all that magic and adventures. I don't suppose it's anything like that in reality?”  
  
”The Arabian Nights is mostly a collection of Middle-Eastern stories,” Daniel reminded her kindly. ”And they are but fairy tales, I'm afraid.”  
  
”Still,” she said with a wistful sigh. ”It must be beautiful over there.”  
  
”It is. The local history is fascinating, and the city of Algiers is rich with old architecture.”  
  
He entertained them with a highly coloured story of the French soldiers he'd seen from his window in Algiers and all the violent scuffles they'd engaged in. It was a very good story in his opinion, and his audience gasped and made noises of indignation at all the right points.  
  
”How terrible!”  
  
”To shoot at unarmed men!”  
  
”Such cowardice!”  
  
He soothed his drying throat with another glass of the sweet, bubbling wine, and he felt elated. The girls all smiled at him with such keen interest that he couldn't help but feel flattered, and their stories about the comings and goings of the nobility were at least just as entertaining. They whispered to him conspiratorially about this and that marquis and whom he'd been seen with, and how Daniel would never believe what the countess of Leuchtenberg had worn to her son's wedding. There was little room in his head for Alexander; he enjoyed a good conversation, and the girls were just as eager to talk. Surely, the baron was engaged in more pressing matters in some private cabinet.  
  
”Oh, they're playing one of my favourite waltzes!” one of the ladies said, craning her neck in the direction of the ballroom. The music carried well into their comfortable little parlour, and Daniel noticed Margaret's leg bouncing to the melody.  
  
”I do wish to dance,” another one sighed. She got up, smoothing the front of her dress.  
  
Her friends nodded their agreement, some of them getting on their feet. Margaret sprang up and took Daniel's hand, attempting to pull him up. ”Come. I want to dance.”  
  
”Is that quite proper, my lady?” he asked, hesitant. Conversing was one thing, but a servant dancing with a duke's daughter publicly…  
  
”It is if I say so,” she stated and let out a little silvery laugh. He could only smile and shake his head in exasperation, but allowed her to pull him into the ballroom nevertheless. The wine made him feel light-headed but he found that his feet were still quite steady. They manoeuvred their way towards the middle of the crowded room where a small space had opened up. He was enjoying himself much more than he'd anticipated and he made an exaggerated bow, drawing another amused giggle from her.  
  
”Would Fräulein honour this humble servant with a dance?” he asked, taking her hand and placing a small kiss on it.  
  
”Only if the said servant shows me how they dance in England,” she replied, eyes wrinkled with humour.  
  
He placed one hand on her waist and pulled her into a dance, all thought of propriety forgotten. The few dances he knew were far from appropriate for performing in front of royalty, their steps too loose, too wild; meant for songs that you wouldn't repeat around better people, but it all just seemed to delight his partner. She was quick to pick up on his example and the alcohol in his blood sang its approval as they spun around, the people around them making way for them. He could tell people were staring, possibly wondering who the Lady Margaret was dancing with in such unbecoming manner, but at that moment they were too young and too intoxicated to care.  
  
Afterwards, he couldn't tell how long they had been dancing; her friends had joined them and Daniel felt like he'd been passed from lady to lady for hours until they were all giddy from the music and laughter. It was only when they were standing by the banquet table, thirstier than before, that he noticed it was already nearing one in the morning. He hadn't seen Alexander since their arrival.  
  
”If you ladies will excuse me for a moment, I think I should go find the baron,” he told his companions.  
  
”Oh, but it's not even that late yet...”  
  
”You should tell us another story, sir!”  
  
He gave a theatrical sigh, assuming his most sombre expression. ”Alas, in this case I'm afraid duty comes before play. Please rest assured I'll be back in timely manner, ladies, Lady Margaret.”  
  
And with a quick bow at his disappointed companions he vanished into the crowd. The ballroom was almost as full as it had been upon their arrival, and he hadn't the faintest idea where to look. The duchess had disappeared since Margaret had snatched him, and the duke would have been difficult to miss had he been back from his meeting; the Englishman had a nasty feeling he might have had a few words to spare about a servant dancing with his daughter.  
  
It took ten minutes of aimless wandering until he saw a face he recognised; the servant who'd shown them in. ”Excuse me, sir,” he called after the man, who turned to face him. ”Would you happen to know where the lord von Brennenburg is? I have not seen him since his meeting with His Grace.”  
  
”I saw him conversing with another guest not too long ago in one of the private cabinets, sir.”  
  
Daniel sighed in relief. ”Could you tell me where to find these cabinets?”  
  
”Of course. Go up the stairs and take the second right. You'll find the door unlocked.”  
  
”Thank you, sir,” he said, passing the man a coin for his services. He walked up the stairs, trying to avoid bumping into the people flitting towards the banquet hall, and followed the servant's directions into a corridor that was lit only by several candelabras. There was peculiar rustling by the tall windows and he could just barely make out the outlines of a couple with their arms around one another, only partially visible behind the curtains. He hurried away, blushing furiously.  
  
He seemed to be in a different wing altogether, and a worry was growing in his mind that he wasn't supposed to be there. If someone of the duke's family caught him sneaking around there, all by himself, he'd have one hell of a job explaining what he was doing. Most of the doors on either side of the corridor stood ajar, revealing lavishly decorated rooms that were mostly empty. Once or twice he saw people who'd taken refuge from the party for a more private conversation, and he was starting to wonder if the servant had just seen wrong.  
  
When he reached the end of the corridor his head had started to pound. He couldn't recall if he'd eaten anything since lunch, and he was growing tired from the drinks and the dancing.  
  
”Where on earth is he?” the brunette mumbled. He leaned against the wall, trying to sort out his thoughts. It might have been easier to ask one of the service staff to look for Alexander instead. But there was a nagging worry at the pit of his stomach that said dawn was too close for him to waste any time, that he had to find the baron and leave if they wanted to make it back on time. Perhaps Alexander had gotten carried away as he had, giving in to the pleasure of company and conversation.  
  
It took him a while to notice the last door at the end of the corridor. There was just a touch of light escaping from the sliver between the door and the frame, and he might not have seen it at all if a shadow hadn't suddenly blocked the light. He blinked, realising the room was occupied, but he couldn't hear anyone speaking. Dumbfounded, he edged closer, listening intently.  
  
The only thing he could hear was the faint rustling of cloth and at first he thought it was another couple. He was just close enough to make out the form of someone with their back to the door. As the shape shifted candlelight danced across some dark, reflective material with golden embroideries on it, and Daniel inhaled sharply.  
  
It was Alexander.  
  
He knocked just once, pushing the door open. ”Sir, I've been looking everywhere for—”  
  
The words caught in his throat when he saw the unconscious woman in the elder's arms. The baron turned, his lips stained rouge; Daniel could just make out the blood running down her exposed neck. He glanced over his shoulder and quickly closed the door.  
  
”What on earth do you think you're doing?” he demanded, his voice shaking. Alexander licked his lips, adjusting his grip on the pale woman.  
  
”The countess and I were having a conversation.”  
  
Daniel stared at him. His head felt like it was full of fog. ”A conversation indeed. Look at what you've done to her!” He barely managed to keep his voice down.  
  
The baron lowered the woman on an empty sofa, taking out a handkerchief from his pocket and wiping her neck with it until the stains were gone. ”She'll be alright. I didn't take enough to do more than daze her.”  
  
”Daze her? She'll reveal your secret the moment she wakes up!”  
  
”Don't raise your voice, Daniel.”  
  
”What if you're discovered because of this? We need to get out of here as soon as possible!”  
  
Alexander frowned, turning to face him. He had shed his overcoat at some point – it lay draped over the back of a chair next to the sleeping countess.  
  
”She'd already passed out from too much wine before I did anything. I assure you, she won't remember a thing about this later.”  
  
Daniel glared at him incredulously and laughed, though there was nothing amusing about the situation. He suddenly felt as though he'd been doused in icy water.  
  
”Why would you do this?” he asked. The tremour had spread from his voice to his hands; the image of the baron wrapped around the countess seemed imprinted into his retinas, and it wouldn't vanish. The wine had risen to his head, making the room around him spin sickeningly.  
  
”You know I need to feed sometimes,” Alexander said dismissively. He had begun pulling on his coat.  
  
Daniel passed him, flinging himself on the empty chair in front of a desk. His eyes seemed unable to focus on anything and he stared unblinkingly at the objects littering the desk; it must be someone's private room. Somehow, he no longer cared if they were found. ”And you would feed on _anyone_? Anyone at all? Like it doesn't mean anything to you?” He could feel his breathing accelerating, and his eyes stung with something hot.  
  
”Have you been drinking, Daniel? You're not making any sense.”  
  
The Englishman laughed again, and something warm leaked out from the corner of his eye. He brushed it off irritably. His vision was unpleasantly blurry and something on the desk glittered in the candlelight, something sharp. He reached out, closing it in his hand. A shaving knife.  
  
”Daniel?”  
  
The younger man shook his head, but it only made the headache worse. He turned to look at Alexander, at the dried blood lingering at the corner of the baron's mouth. His vision blurred again, his eyes were brimming with liquid fire. ”We had a pact. You were supposed to take my blood to prevent this from happening!”  
  
His voice sounded alien, a new, hysterical pitch to it that he'd never heard before. Alexander stared at him, alarmed.  
  
”Keep your voice down! You know I cannot drain you endlessly without killing you—”  
  
”I don't care! If it's all the same to you, why did you agree to do it in the first place?”  
  
”Daniel, keep quiet—”  
  
”If it's all the same – if you don't want it – then why not just spill it all?” And without truly knowing what he was doing, Daniel pulled down his sleeve and slashed the knife across his wrist. He could see the blood burst from the wound as though in a dream, the knife tumbling from his hand, but the pain was raw and real, much too real.  
  
”What are you doing?” the baron all but shouted. Daniel hadn't seen him move but he was there suddenly, clutching his bleeding wrist and staring at it with disbelieving eyes. He seemed to act upon an instinct; his eyes burned like fire and then he was on knees on the floor next to him, his mouth clamped tight over the wound. Daniel let out a shuddering breath, and warm tears trickled down his cheeks uncontrollably.  
  
”I don't want you to bite someone else,” he whispered hoarsely, and his entire body shook. The words tumbling out of his mouth felt sharp and shameful, and he didn't know where they were coming from or how to stop them. ”Please. Please let my blood be enough for you.”  
  
Alexander met his tear-stained eyes, his own amber ones clouded with almost fearful confusion. When he finally let go of Daniel's wrist the bleeding had subsided, and he wrapped the handkerchief around the cut tightly. He made no effort to get up from the floor and simply held the brunette's hand, catching his breath. Daniel felt thoroughly sick and he closed his eyes, willing the world to stop revolving so fast. Nothing, nothing made sense anymore.  
  
He felt Alexander squeezing his hand, as though from miles away. ”We need to get you home.”  
  
”Alright,” Daniel heard himself say. He had no energy left to protest.  
  
The baron half-led, half-carried him out of the room and down the dark corridor. Daniel had very few recollections past that point; he knew there were people talking around him and someone else grabbed his other arm, then there was cold air against his face, and he felt himself being led down a flight of stairs.  
  
The next thing he was aware of was the swaying of the carriage and the sound of hooves. He vaguely registered there was a shoulder pressed against his cheek, an arm draped around his shoulders. The warmth of the body pressed against him radiated even through his clothes.  
  
”I forgot my hat,” he mumbled.  
  
Alexander sighed.  
  
”Just sleep, Daniel. We're on our way.”  
  
And he blacked out once more.  


* * *

  
Daniel didn't know where he was when he came to again. His eyelids felt like lead, his mouth so dry that for a moment he thought he was back in the camp in Algeria. Then his ears registered the slow crackling of fire, and there was no canvas hanging above him when he opened his eyes.  
  
The room was very dark, and if it hadn't been for the grandfather clock on the bedside he would have assumed it was still night. The hands were pointing at 1 o'clock. He blinked blearily; he was certain there had been no grandfather clock in his room. Daniel sighed and rolled to his side, only to find the baron next to him.  
  
He scrambled to sit up, heart racing. Alexander lay on his back on top of the covers, arms crossed across his chest. As Daniel stared at his sleeping form hazy images began to emerge from his memory, and a numb horror seemed to be rising inside him. His hand twinged painfully as though reminding him about something, and when he lifted it he found it heavily bandaged. A little bit of blood had seeped through the bindings; he remembered a flash of steel and then, pain.  
  
”Oh, my god,” he whispered, unable to look away from the sleeping vampyre. He wanted to run and disappear before the baron woke up, but what good would that do? He couldn't hide from Alexander in his own castle. A terrible, suffocating shame crashed over him. He recalled the countess, fainted on the sofa, and the jealousy flared anew, threatening to break free and burn him alive.

_Jealousy._ No, that would be ridiculous. Yet… He stared the elder's sleeping form in silence, taking in his peaceful expression and the slow falling and rising of his chest. His hair appeared snow white in the soft glow of the fire. Daniel remembered what he'd looked like with the woman on his arms; the memory made his throat burn. He turned away from the baron and simply sat on the edge of the bed, staring blankly at the wall.  
  
He had no name for the feeling that had settled deep in his chest. During those rare moments when he'd thought about love he had imagined it as something born of a necessity, the sort of dutiful affection that married spouses came to feel for one another, or something uncomplicated, a brief moment of childish infatuation like what he'd had with Margaret.  
  
Daniel thought back on Hazel; she was the only person he could say he'd loved with absolute certainty, but that had been an altogether different kind of love. It had been as natural as having two arms, the unspoken bond they'd shared with one another despite their age gap. But the baron… His stomach twisted into a tight knot at the thought of him. It just wasn't possible; two men simply couldn't love one another as a man and a woman did. The thought left a hollow ache in his gut that offered him no solace whatsoever.  
  
”Daniel?”  
  
He jumped, nearly startled out of his skin. He turned and found Alexander looking at him with half-open eyes.  
  
”You're awake already?” Daniel asked, laying down next to him.  
  
”How is your wrist?”  
  
The baron's look was piercing and he looked away, flushing with embarrassment. ”Achy, to be honest.”  
  
”As it should. Perhaps it will remind you to never do that again.”  
  
”I'm sorry for overreacting like that. I was… drunk.” It sounded lame even in his own ears.  
  
Alexander sighed wearily. ”That is quite an understatement. Be glad the cut wasn't deeper or I couldn't have quenched the bleeding as easily.”  
  
Daniel said nothing. His head was still aching dully from all the wine he'd consumed the night before and he closed his eyes, hoping it would fade eventually.   
  
”You do understand why I bit her, don't you?” the baron asked quietly.  
  
”Yes.”  
  
”Daniel,” he said hesitantly. ”Daniel, look at me.”  
  
He took a steadying breath and slowly opened his eyes. Alexander had rolled to his side and lay looking at him, his eyes serious.  
  
”I cannot drink your blood often enough to sustain myself, but I would kill you were I to take any more from you.”  
  
Daniel pursed his lips, brows knitting into a forbidding frown. ”Then why did you agree to take my blood in the first place?”  
  
”Because it helps. I do not need to risk my safety as often if I can take what I need from you.”  
  
”What about the safety of others? What about the poor woman you bit?”  
  
”It was never my intention to kill her. I only drank enough to quench my thirst.” The baron reached out and took his bandaged hand between his own. His skin was scorchingly hot, a healthy glow upon it for once. ” _This_ was utter foolishness,” he said, squeezing his hand for emphasis. ”You forced me into taking your blood again, much too soon since the last time.”  
  
”I see,” Daniel said stiffly. He attempted to pull his hand back but Alexander only clung tighter, drawing a whimper of pain from the younger man.  
  
”Never do that again. I cannot promise your safety if you force me into feeding on you more than your body can take.”  
  
”You make it sound like you care,” he said coldly. The baron looked as though Daniel had slapped him, and the brunette loathed himself for enjoying the hurt in his eyes. Before Alexander could stop him he wrenched back his hand, rolling off the bed.  
  
”You think I don't care about your well-being?” Alexander snarled. He'd pushed himself into a sitting position and his face was contorted with unabashed anger.  
  
”I need some water,” Daniel said without looking at him and left the room, banging the door shut after himself.  
  
He knew immediately he'd gone too far. The baron's expression wouldn't leave his head and the momentary satisfaction of having hurt him had turned into disgust. He knew Alexander was right; he knew it, and it infuriated him.  
  
He felt winded just from the short walk to the entrance hall and had to grip the railing for support as he descended the stairs. The chilly air in the kitchen made him shiver and with a sinking feeling he realised he was only dressed in his shirt from the party; the waistcoat and the overcoat must be in Alexander's room. He couldn't decide which was worse, the shame of realising that the baron had helped him undress or that he would have to go back for his garments later – if he dared.  


* * *

  
For the rest of the day Daniel dreaded nightfall. He knew trying to avoid Alexander was for naught; there was no way he would let their previous argument rest. And sure enough, it was only half an hour after sundown that he heard, actually heard, footfalls thundering down the hallway towards his door. The baron entered the drawing room without bothering to knock, and Daniel could see from his expression that he was absolutely livid.  
  
The Englishman sighed inwardly. Leaving him alone for hours to build up his temper had clearly been a mistake.  
  
”You have ten seconds to explain yourself,” Alexander growled, eyes practically blazing.  
  
The brunette got up from the sofa, carefully putting down the book he'd been reading. He pushed the anxiety off his mind and faced the baron straight-backed, drawn to his full height. The two of them glared at each other, and Daniel tried to convince his face to betray no emotion. He had a hunch he was failing miserably. Seconds passed and his mind was empty – he couldn't think of anything to say.

”I, well… I didn't mean to—”  
  
Alexander cut across him as soon as he'd opened his mouth.  
  
”You are the most ungrateful little bastard that I've ever known,” the baron spat.  
  
”I know I said too much—”  
  
”Do you now?”  
  
”Will you just stop that?” Daniel said irritably. ”If you'd let me finish—”  
  
” _You?_ And why should I listen to anything you have to say? You, who speaks without any respect for the feelings of those around you.” He grabbed the brunette's injured had roughly. ”Look at this; look at what you've done to yourself!”  
  
”I didn't do it to hurt myself!” Daniel protested.  
  
”How do you think it makes me feel when you harm yourself to punish me for something I cannot help?” His hand shook with rage. ”For overstepping some petty boundaries of morality that you've constructed for me?”  
  
”That's not what it is at all!”  
  
”Isn't it? I am, as you keep reminding me, a _murderer_ —”  
  
”I told you, that's not what it is!” Daniel grabbed a hold of his shirt with his free hand, pulling him closer. He forced himself to look directly into Alexander's enraged eyes and not blink. ”It was… her. I couldn't stand the thought that you'd do this to anyone else, anyone but me.”  
  
”What?”  
  
Daniel yanked him closer by his shirt and pressed his lips against the baron's, kissing him fervently. When he pulled away, he felt himself shaking. ”I don't want to share... whatever this is that we have. Not with anyone. Not ever.”  
  
Alexander's eyes widened. Slowly, he let go of the Englishman's hand. For a long time he just stared; he seemed to have forgotten his voice entirely.  
  
”It's not about not harming someone else,” Daniel pressed on. It was an effort to keep talking with the elder staring at him as though he'd grown a second head. ”Not anymore.”  
  
”Come here,” Alexander said quietly, and Daniel obliged. The baron pulled him into an embrace, holding him against his chest. Neither of them said anything for a while. ”You do know what you're asking is impossible, don't you? I cannot only feed on you. You would die.”  
  
”I know. And I'm sorry.” He rested his head against Alexander's shoulder. ”For everything.” _  
  
_ The arms around him tightened.  
  
”Have you eaten today?” The baron's voice was oddly muffled against his hair.  
  
”Yes.”  
  
”Did you rest properly?”  
  
”You sound terribly worried all of a sudden,” the brunette pointed out.  
  
”Someone needs to keep an eye out for you, since you don't seem to be doing it yourself.” The baron disentangled himself from the younger man and sat down on the sofa.  
  
”I'm alright, I promise.”  
  
”You have lost more blood recently than you should have,” Alexander continued. ”After yesterday, I fear it will take you quite some time to recover entirely.” Without another word he graced his bottom lip with his fangs, making it bleed, and Daniel inhaled sharply. The elder beckoned him closer and, his legs shaking, the Englishman obeyed. Alexander grabbed his hands, pulling him down on his lap.  
  
”Are you sure?” Daniel asked. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the glistening red of the baron's lips; the sight was enough to leave him breathless.  
  
”Drink it.”  
  
He didn't need to be told twice. He bent closer to lick away the trail of blood dripping down to Alexander's chin, flicking his tongue across the baron's bleeding lip and crushing their lips together once more. The vampyre's blood wet his mouth again and its rusty tang seeped into his senses immediately, filling his head with that strange, white noise. It blended in with the nonsensical movement of their bodies; Alexander's hands on his hips, on his thighs and everywhere, everywhere that he touched seemed to burn him to the bone.  
  
As before, he thought he felt more than heard Alexander's voice at the back of his mind, like an echo steadily growing louder and louder. No words came to him, just the thrilling sense of another presence intertwining with his, feeling as he felt, seeing as he saw, moving to the same rhythm. Without thinking he let his tongue slip inside the baron's mouth, giving him a taste of his own blood. Daniel felt sharp fangs scrape against his tongue and suddenly Alexander's arms were grasping him like a vice, pressing the brunette against himself so hard that Daniel thought he would break from it.  
  
Alexander's fingers wound themselves in his hair, yanking his head back roughly. ”This – this I won't share with anyone else,” he breathed, lips brushing against the brunette's as he spoke. ”This is yours to have.”  
  
”Only mine?”  
  
”Only yours,” the baron confirmed. And he claimed Daniel's lips again into a bruising kiss. The soreness, the weakness that had settled into his body seemed to ebb away with each drop he consumed and he thought no more of the countess or of Margaret, he thought no more of anything but the body pressed against his. When they broke apart his mind was crystal clear and the cut on his wrist no longer ached.  
  
”Never harm yourself again,” Alexander murmured into his ear. ”Do you understand?”  
  
”Yes,” Daniel answered.  
  
”And incidentally, I would not recommend dancing with the lady Margaret again. The duke thought it quite unbecoming of her status to be seen so openly favouring a servant.”  
  
”She's the one who asked me,” he said pointedly.  
  
”You need more practice in the art of declining politely.”  
  
”Easy for you to say,” he huffed. ”These upper class ladies are very determined.”  
  
”Yes, and you were too drunk to say no.”  
  
Daniel only grimaced in answer.  
  
The baron got up, slowly letting the younger man's hand slip free from his. Daniel's eyes followed him even as he walked out of the door, leaving him to retire for the night. He could only wonder how much unwelcome attention lady Margaret's choice of a dance partner had attracted the night before, and how long it would take for the duke to let them forget about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My, have I waited eagerly to publish this particular chapter! Things can only get murkier for Daniel from now on. I'm very sorry if the scene with Daniel cutting his wrist was too much for anyone reading this story, it has been part of the script in my head since the very beginning and I knew it was going to happen. I don't like detailed descriptions of such things, though, so I kept it as non-descriptive as I could.
> 
> I'll be taking a short break (again) due to my being on a holiday and not being able to focus on writing as I'd like to; there's just too much going on and too many people to see while I'm visiting my homeland and I'm hardly at my computer at all! I'll see you guys with the next chapter at the end of September, I'm aiming to publish it on the 28th at the latest. I'm not flying home until the 20th so you can imagine how much fuss there is. x_x Sorry about this!
> 
> In the meantime, I have my writing playlist for this fic on up 8tracks: http://8tracks.com/aurasama/unyieldingly-yours-a-mix-for-immortal-lovers Take a listen if you want to!


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'I wish for this night-time to last for a lifetime  
> The darkness around me  
> Shores of a solar sea  
> Oh how I wish to go down with the sun  
> Sleeping, weeping, with you'
> 
> Nightwish – Sleeping Sun

_May 1841_

Daniel watched with growing satisfaction as his work started to bear fruit and the garden, encouraged by heavy spring rains and periods of warm sunlight, slowly started blooming in anticipation of the coming summer. Green grass had transformed the grounds entirely and wild dandelions and daisies sprouted everywhere, and he let them. He had been excited to find some old, gnarly apple trees at the corner of the woods. They had clearly been untended for decades, but one sunny day the trees were full of delicate white flowers and he started wishing they'd eventually bear fruit.

More often than not he ate his lunch on the grounds. The weather favoured outdoors work, and sometimes he napped in the shade of the apple trees when he felt too sleepy to return to work. The grass stains didn't want to come off his working clothes no matter how much he washed them, and he was glad Alexander acted like he didn't notice anything.  
  
When it rained Daniel found himself more and more often in the library. Fresh spring air flowed in from the partially opened windows, and for the first time since his arrival in Brennenburg the castle truly felt alive; dust and decay made way for sunlight and the smell of green, growing things. It made his heart feel lighter and sometimes, he thought he hadn't been this content for ages.  
  
On such days he allowed his mind to drift back to the duke's ballroom. He hummed the melodies he'd danced to with Margaret, imagining holding her small hand in his again, and floated across the floor in the empty library with an imaginary partner.  
  
”What on earth are you doing?”  
  
Daniel froze mid-step, nearly tripping over his feet. Alexander stood watching him, leaning against the doorway and apparently quite enjoying himself.  
  
”Please, do go on,” he said, eyebrows raised. ”I wouldn't want to interrupt anything important.”  
  
”You aren't,” the Englishman said, going red. ”And I was quite done in any case. There is little point in dancing without a partner.”  
  
”Is this what you taught the lady Margaret? I am not surprised her father was scandalised.”  
  
”W-well,” he stammered. His ears were burning with embarrassment. ”I only did what I could. I am not learned in ballroom dances.”  
  
”Clearly.” Alexander shed his overcoat, folding over the back of a chair. ”Someone has to teach you in case we are ever invited to another ball.”  
  
”You can't be suggesting—”  
  
”But I am. You'll embarrass us both if I allow you to dance like that in public.”  
  
Fuming, Daniel walked to him, trying not to look too insulted. True, perhaps the dances he knew weren't exactly enjoyed by the higher classes, but he hadn't thought himself a hopeless case on the dance floor.  
  
”How are we going to practice?” he asked, trying to keep his tone polite. ”We are both men, if you haven't noticed.”  
  
Alexander raised his eyebrows. ”I will instruct you. Pretend I am the lady Margaret if it pleases you, and put your hand on my waist.”  
  
He wasn't at all sure it was going to work but did as he was told, holding the elder as though about to pull him on the dance floor.  
  
”Good. The melody is this.” Alexander hummed a slow waltz, eerily reminding the brunette of his nightmares. ”A simple ballroom waltz, three beats. Start with your right foot.”  
  
”Understood,” Daniel muttered, refusing to meet his eye.  
  
It was very awkward at first. Alexander's height made steering him challenging and Daniel kept loosing his concentration, stepping into the wrong beat every few turns. The baron was quick to correct him whenever this happened.  
  
”No, left heel,” he said as the younger man fumbled. ”Remember, it's a three beat melody; the same heel doesn't touch the ground twice in a row.”  
  
Daniel bit his lip but said nothing. He found it hard to focus like this, and his mind found diversions everywhere. The chafing of his working shoes, the flickering lantern light, Alexander's hand on his shoulder… He fumbled again, this time nearly stepping on the baron's foot.  
  
”This is not going to work,” Daniel said irritably.  
  
”It will. You are just not concentrating.”  
  
”I wonder why that is,” he muttered under his breath.  
  
”You need to keep the tune in mind. Listen.” And Alexander started humming the melody again, giving him a nod and Daniel pulled him into a dance once more.  
  
He found it was easier to focus when he could hear the tune, his feet more eager to follow its lead. Alexander said nothing more, simply kept the melody going and Daniel closed his eyes, forgetting where they were and that no one was watching. His feet moved lightly across the floor, falling into the beat without the need to think and Alexander sped up the melody after a while.  
  
There seemed to be no more need to talk; they dropped the waltz and moved on to another beat, another dance, and Daniel only kept his focus on whichever melody the baron was humming. Many of the dances he recognised from the duke's party but this was nothing like dancing with Margaret. He kept his form straight, his movements calm and collected. They moved purposefully like air across the empty floor and when he dared open his eyes again, he found Alexander looking calmly back at him, his expression content.  
  
There was no orchestra, no audience or a banquet table, but the dimly lit library was much more festive in Daniel's eyes than anything in the duke's domain had been. Somewhere out there was Margaret, who perhaps would remember him and his amusing stories until someone more important came along. But his stories seemed secondary, now, something he would go back to after a long day of work or when he had nothing but rainy days to keep him company; a thing of the past that he no longer yearned to return to or to relive. Alexander was watching him intently, his melody neverending, and he was real and warm and right here, better than any story of the past he could think of, and Daniel realised he was happy. The clock chimed twelve times and the waning moon was high, and he was so happy that he thought his heart would burst from it.  
  
”Midnight,” Alexander said quietly, pausing his humming.  
  
The younger man said nothing, only returned the baron's content look and spun him around once more. They came to a stop at the other end of the hall. Light breeze from the open window made the candlelight waver and cast quivering shadows across the baron's face.  
  
”What is it?”  
  
”Let me steer for a bit,” Alexander said. Daniel switched his grip and the elder pulled him into another dance. They seemed to glide soundlessly across the floor, Daniel finding it much easier to hold his composure when all he needed to do was follow the other man's lead. Alexander's steps were light and graceful, as though he had no need to think about what he was doing, and the brunette found himself mimicking his movements even without a melody to follow.  
  
”Alexander?”  
  
”Yes?”  
  
”Why does your blood affect me the way it does? Why does it help me recover?”  
  
”Because by sharing my blood, I am sharing a part of myself – a part of my power.” He seemed to be choosing his words carefully. ”Were you to cut me the wound would simply heal in the matter of moments.”  
  
”And so you wouldn't die from a wound as a mortal would? Or from disease?”  
  
”Exactly.”  
  
”So the only way for you to die is...”  
  
”Sunlight, or more precisely, fire,” Alexander nodded.  
  
Daniel considered him for a moment and frowned. ”Perhaps you should let me tend to the fireplaces from now on.”  
  
The baron laughed, the rumbling sound of his voice echoing in the open space.  
  
”But then… how are your kind born? The legend only says that the bite of a vampyre turns you into one of them, but that's clearly not the case,” Daniel continued, his tone hesitant.  
  
”The legend is only partially correct,” Alexander replied. ”One must drain the victim to the point of death, that much is true.”  
  
”But?”  
  
”The bite alone is not enough. The victim must partake in vampyre blood or else they will simply die.”  
  
Daniel gaped at him, eyes wide with comprehension. ”Then what you said before, about being turned by accident..?”  
  
”I lied,” the baron admitted. ”We do not readily share our secrets with mortals. I have met the vampyre who turned me, and I know extremely well that he did what he did out of menace, not as the result of a blunder.”  
  
They had halted in front of the tall windows. Daniel felt the cool night air ruffling his hair, and a strange chill that had nothing to do with weather was creeping up his spine. A whole world of possibilities and questions seemed to have opened in his mind, and it sent his brain buzzing with fearful excitement.  
  
”What I feel when you give me your blood,” he said slowly. ”Is that how it feels like to be turned?”  
  
”Yes, more or less.”  
  
The thought drew a shudder from the younger man. ”So turning someone would always be an act of deliberation, no matter what,” he concluded, more to himself than Alexander.  
  
”No matter what,” the baron agreed.

”Have you… have you ever turned anyone?”

Alexander halted suddenly and Daniel accidentally tread on his foot. The elder's eyes had narrowed slightly. ”You are full of questions tonight.”  
  
”I'm sorry if that was an improper thing to ask,” Daniel hurried to say.  
  
But Alexander shook his head, sighing. ”It is no sin to be curious, my friend.” He let go of the younger man, slowly walking over to the open window. He sat down on the sill, looking out to the moonlit grounds pensively. ”It can go wrong, the turning. There is no guarantee you will succeed – it is a terrible gamble to take. I tried it once. And I failed.”  
  
”What happened?” Daniel barely dared to breathe; the baron looked frozen in place, as unreliable as a waking dream, about to vanish in the blink of an eye.  
  
”He died,” Alexander said flatly. He closed his eyes, slowly breathing in the night air.  
  
”Forgive me. I shouldn't have asked.”  
  
The baron shook his head again, but he didn't open his eyes. ”Let's just drop the subject.”  
  
Daniel quite regretted ever bringing it up and he excused himself, deciding to retire for the night. As much as the identity of this unknown, unlucky individual interested him, Daniel's mind was much too occupied with the idea of the turning itself. He couldn't rip his mind off it; he recalled the pleasure of blood-letting, how it obliterated his senses, how it was always over much too soon. It was enough to make his toes curl to imagine that sensation ten times stronger, unending, overcoming him entirely until he was made anew.  
  
He let out a shameful groan, trying to force down the need flaring in his gut as he lay in his bed later that night. Alexander's blood had been so hot in his mouth that night. _This I won't share with anyone else._ The baron's words echoed in his head again. Daniel bit his lip, pulling up the hem of his nightshirt and inhaling sharply when cool air came into contact with his skin. His mind was a flurry of confused thoughts as he stroked himself feverishly, and every word Alexander had ever whispered in his ear seemed magnified, his every touch coming back to him as surely as if the vampyre's hands were roaming across his naked limbs right now. Daniel turned over and muffled his moans against the pillows, and he found his release thinking of Alexander's teeth sinking into his flesh over and over until he was spent, with nothing more to give.  
  
He mumbled Alexander's name in a daze and slumped on the bed, legs weak with exhaustion. A small voice in his mind suggested he should have felt ashamed, but he merely pulled the covers over himself and drifted off without a second thought.  


* * *

  
”You seem distracted.”  
  
Daniel looked up from his book, blinking slowly. It took all of his will power to meet the baron's eye.  
  
”Oh,” he said. He hadn't taken in single word of what he was reading; it was becoming a struggle to keep his wits about him these days. ”I was just thinking about… the garden. There is much to take care of if we want it to look presentable.”  
  
Alexander raised his eyebrows slightly. ”I don't see the need to bother with it too much. We hardly ever get visitors.”  
  
”Perhaps, but I would hate to leave it neglected.”  
  
The baron shrugged, turning back to his book. ”Do as you please, Daniel, as long as it's not at the cost of your health.”  
  
”What do you mean?”  
  
”You seem tired these days. Don't work yourself too hard.”  
  
Daniel hid behind his book again, feeling colour rising to his cheeks. He wouldn't have admitted it under the pain of death, but falling asleep at night had become troublesome. Lying down idly only allowed his mind a chance to wander, bringing back the ever-increasing desire to feel Alexander's teeth on him. To his horror his body responded all too eagerly to the thought, and he hadn't the strength to fight back the urge to touch himself until he passed out from exhaustion. The Englishman wished he could have simply had the baron take his blood again to grant him some peace of mind, but he knew it was too soon for that. His body needed more time to recover.  
  
It did nothing to try to look for diversions, either. Once, he laid down and tried to think of Margaret and her pretty friends, eager for his attentions. All those lovely young maidens with their ample bosoms and fluttering eyelashes should have roused his lust, not thoughts of the demon he served, but his body made mockery of his wishes. The moon rose, forcing him to retreat into his quarters alone, and it only made his hunger ten times worse. _Hunger._ Daniel knew what he felt was nothing next to the all-consuming thirst Alexander endured, but it pushed all else off his mind all the same. He cursed his body for needing the rest, for taking away from the diminishing hours of darkness he had to share with the baron, and yet it was a blessing to part from him before he went mad and just begged the elder to drain him entirely.  
  
But there were also those nights he simply couldn't tear himself away from Alexander's company, not even when he could tell it was becoming too much. He'd simply lounge on his seat and pretend to read while stealing glances of the baron every now and then, or enjoy those moments when the elder was speaking at a length about some obscure political matter, allowing Daniel to simply watch him quietly. But he liked it best when Alexander played the piano; it was during those moments Daniel thought he was almost ethereal, lost in an entire world of emotion he seemed unwilling to present at other times. It felt a privilege to be privy to this side of him.

* * *

  
It was his weariness, perhaps, that made him decide to venture into the woods. The days were growing longer in the face of the coming summer and the surrounding woodlands were alive with sounds and smells of wildlife. Daniel dressed lightly, setting out before the midday heat rolled in, with a waterskin and a small bundle of food tucked inside his satchel. He had grown increasingly frustrated with his continued troubles with sleeping and the idea of a long hike in the wilderness sounded tempting, the perfect excuse to exhaust himself until he was sure to fall asleep within seconds.  
  
It was a lovely, almost cloudless day, and Daniel was thankful for the light breeze blowing from the valley. He could tell summer was just around the corner; it had gotten stifflingly hot in direct sunlight in the past week, making working in the garden unpleasant. With one last glance at the castle he set down the spiraling road into the woods, and his heart soared at the birdsong and the rustling of trees all around him.  
  
It was slow going, but he enjoyed every second. Beads of sweat rolled down his forehead even under the canopy of trees, and the breeze died whenever the road turned to face away from the valley.  
  
Early in the afternoon the warmth was becoming too demanding and he sought a place away from the road for a break. Daniel slumped beneath a large spruce, even its lowest branches high enough for him to sit quite comfortably below them. He took out his lunch and ate slowly, all the while enjoying the spectacular view opening in front of him. It was only there, so close to the edge, that he fully appreciated just how high up he was. He remembered Gabriel's words about travelers getting lost in the area and falling off cliffs, and the thought drew a shudder from him. It was little wonder missing persons were hard to find in these heights.  
  
A few hours after his lunch he had wandered from the path, stepping into the moss-covered undergrowth. This, this was as he'd imagined forests to be like in the fairy tales he'd heard as a child, and he couldn't resist stopping every now and then to examine flowers and treestumps, or to listen to a lone starling perched on the top branches of a pine tree. It was quite a while, therefore, until he made it to another cliff facing a small meadow and became aware of a faint voice calling ahead of him.  
  
”Anyone there? Please, anyone?”  
  
Daniel hurried across the meadow and towards the voice. Right below the cliff he could make out the form of a person, huddled on the ground. As he got closer he saw that it was a middle-aged man, clutching the leg stretched out in front of him.

”Sir? What's wrong? Are you hurt?” Daniel asked, kneeling beside him. The man was sweating profusely, his bearded face white as a sheet.  
  
”I fell,” he panted. ”I think I broke my leg.”  
  
One glance at the man's leg confirmed these suspicious for Daniel; the limb was twisted into an odd angle. Blood had seeped through the cloth of his trousers.  
  
”We need to get you out of here. Were you traveling to town?”  
  
”No,” the man said laborously. ”I was just out for a ride. My horse got startled by something and I fell.”  
  
Daniel glanced up, examining the cliff face. ”The road takes a bend up there. I came that way and I'm afraid I didn't see your horse, though.”  
  
”Must have run off,” the man grimaced.  
  
”Let me help you up, good sir. What's your name?”  
  
”Einhardt.”  
  
”Alright, Einhardt. Give me your hand.”  
  
It took some time to pull the man up without putting weight on his injured leg, but eventually he had his arm draped over Daniel's shoulders, shaking with the effort of standing. He winced, placing his free hand over his ribs.  
  
”Don't think it's just the leg that's broken,” he muttered. Daniel adjusted his grip, doing his best not to hurt him more.  
  
”The town is too far for us to make it there before dusk,” the brunette thought out loud. Just this once, he wished he hadn't set out on foot. His head felt sluggish from the sweat and the heat, unwilling to cooperate. ”I don't think we have much of a choice. We must make for the castle.”  
  
”Castle Brennenburg? You've been there before?”  
  
”I work there,” Daniel said. ”We should be able to patch you up a bit, at least before we get a word out that you'll be needing a doctor.”  
  
”My good man, I'm ready for anything if I can get out of these God-forsaken woods.”  
  
”Best be on our way, then. It'll still take us a few hours to get up there.”  
  
If Daniel's trek through the woods had been slow on his own, it was nothing to how long it took for him and Einhardt to make the way back up together. They had to pause often for the injured man to rest, and Daniel's waterskin ran out of water before they had gone more than half the way. His silence worried the Englishman more than anything; his leg was still bleeding and Daniel had no idea of the scope of his internal injuries. He half-carried, half-led the panting man up the rising path, and for the first time Daniel cursed that the castle was built so high up.  
  
At a long last the silhouette of Brennenburg appeared between the trees and Daniel sighed with relief. His back was crying out for mercy from supporting Einhardt for hours, but he felt invigorated by the knowledge that they were almost there.  
  
”We've made it,” he told the sweating man, who merely grunted in response. Sweat was running down his face in rivulets, but his face was still as white as ever. The Englishman watched him solemnly, worry mingling with relief.  


* * *

  
An hour later Einhardt was sitting in the kitchen, propped on the most comfortable chair Daniel had managed to find in the castle. He seemed only half-conscious; he had fainted while the brunette had been bandaging his leg, doing his best to put it back in the right position. There wasn't much he could offer in the way of painkillers.  
  
”Thank you, friend,” the man rasped, his breathing a little easier than before. He still winced everytime he inhaled deeply.  
  
”Are you feeling any better?”  
  
”The leg's sore but better. Not so sure about the rest.”  
  
Daniel observed him critically. The man had thrown up from pain several times, and to Daniel's horror his vomit had been mixed with blood. It was no good. They had no messengers up in the castle, no horses of their own. If his instincts were right, Einhardt was not going to make it for more than a day or two.  
  
The Englishman got up, handing the other man a towel. ”Here. You've been sweating a lot.”  
  
As he mopped up his face Daniel went to the cupboards, rummaging through all the different bottles. Finally, finding what he was looking for, he pulled out a tall glass, a bottle of wine and poured Einhardt a generous amount.  
  
”I daresay you're in need of a drink. It's not much, but it should help dull the pain.”  
  
”You're a good man, Daniel,” Einhardt said thankfully, draining the glass in one go. Without a word Daniel poured him another glass and sat down in front of him. After a few more glasses Einhardt had relaxed visibly, leaning back more comfortably. Though he was still very pale, the wine had brought some colour back on his cheeks.  
  
”That helps,” he sighed, closing his eyes.  
  
”What brought you all the way up here, good man? The terrain in this area is treacherous.”  
  
”Ach, so I noticed. Does the name of the duke Hohenzollern say anything to you?”  
  
”We've met,” Daniel said tentatively.  
  
”Well, there are plenty of rumours about the area surrounding Brennenburg. Incidents, you know, people going missing, getting hurt… Mind, after what happened today, I can't say it's much of a surprise. The forest's a death trap. In any case, the duke's worried, so he's sending men to investigate the area, see if there are any leads.” Einhardt reached for the bottle, pouring the last of the wine into his glass. He drank slowly, smacking his lips appreciatively after he was done. ”Good bloody luck you found me, Daniel. Otherwise I'd be just one more missing person on the duke's tally.”  
  
Daniel forced a smile but his mind was racing. He felt the first flutterings of panic; why had he brought Einhardt to Brennenburg? Letting a stranger enter the castle now seemed a grave mistake, a risk. If he saw anything… Daniel shook himself mentally, but there was no denying the truth. The man was more dangerous alive than dead.  
  
”I've heard people go missing in the area every now and then,” the brunette said, trying to keep his tone conversational, friendly. ”I've spoken with the outrider in town about it. Have to admit that after seeing the road leading up here myself, I'm not all that surprised it happens.”  
  
”Nor am I. It must be unpleasant come winter.”  
  
”Oh, you have no idea. We cannot always get the wagons up here once the weather turns unsavoury. One has to be very careful with the food supplies after the first snowfall.”  
  
Einhardt smirked knowingly. ”You living here all alone with the baron? I've heard he's not all that fond of people.”  
  
”I'm his caretaker. He's getting in on the years and though I've asked him before, he doesn't seem in favour of hiring more staff. He's a peculiar man, the baron.”  
  
”So the rumour says. Does he stay in the castle a lot?”  
  
”It's more that he hardly leaves his room. Quite frankly he could have died in his sleep and I wouldn't know until a month later.”  
  
The injured man guffawed and Daniel feigned a few chuckles himself, though his brain was working furiously. So the duke was suspicious of Alexander. That explained quite a lot, he thought. He thought back to the party, of the duke's keenness to see Alexander alone, and pieces seemed to fall into place. So that's how it was.  
  
”You couldn't possibly get me some more of that wine?” Einhardt asked, examining his empty glass. ”It takes the worst edge off the pain.”  
  
”Of course, friend,” Daniel said, getting up. The kitchen sink was a mess of cutlery, empty goblets and unwashed plates. A toolbox stood behind empty bottles on the desk, forgotten after he'd repaired a door in the kitchen. He pulled out another bottle from the cupboard, placing it in front the other man.  
  
”Thank you. I should think I'd be able to rest a bit after another glass or two.”  
  
”Have as much as you'd like,” the Englishman replied, smiling broadly. Slowly, he slid open the toolbox. ”We have plenty to go by.”  
  
”Very much appreciated.”  
  
Daniel watched carefully as Einhardt opened the bottle, starting to pour himself another drink. A second later the man's head slammed against the table with a loud crash, causing the glass to topple over and spill wine all over the floor. Daniel breathed heavily, lifting up the hammer in his hands for another strike, but the man slid out of the chair and onto the floor and did not stir again.  
  
He stared and stared as blood oozed from the back of the man's head, wetting his flaxen hair. It seemed to take Daniel forever to comprehend what he had just done.  
  
”What do I do,” he whispered, horrified. The hammer shook in his hands. ” _What do I do?_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy, Daniel, you're in deep doo-doo now... How on earth does he keep getting into these situations? That's a ridiculous amount of bad karma right there.
> 
> Anyway, I'm back from a well-deserved holiday. ^^ With this update we'll be switching to bi-monthly updates, that is, a new chapter every two weeks! Mostly because I've been writing like crazy the past few months and need time for my other hobbies, too. I can also happily declare that we're more than halfway through the story now, though I can't say how many chapters exactly this story will be in the end. Will just have to wait and see!


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'We've been dreaming but who can deny?  
> It's the best way of living between the truth and the lies.'
> 
> See Who I Am – Within Temptation

_May 1841_

He knew he had made a sloppy job of it, but there was no helping it. If he'd been in full control of himself, Daniel would have been surprised he'd even managed to drag the unconscious Einhardt all the way into the underground dungeon. He was more tired than he felt, but panic had urged him into action and there was no room for exhaustion in his mind now.

In the uninspected rooms next to the morgue he'd found all manner of unpleasant items. Somehow – he couldn't quite recall how – he'd held up the other man and bound him with a pair of manacles bolted to the wall. The sight of him hanging there, still out cold, filled him with horrified anticipation. What would he do now? What would he do when the man woke up? Daniel half-wished the impact had been enough to kill him, but he doubted he'd be that lucky. It might have been better for Einhardt himself if he'd died in the kitchen; the tool racks lining the small room were filled with instruments meant for torture. Some were pristinely clean apart from a coating of dust, others covered in old, caked blood or rusted beyond recognition. Daniel couldn't think of a more horrible place to wake up in.  
  
He searched the racks for something, anything for gagging Einhardt before he came to – it was bad enough he'd had to hurt him after all the trouble he'd gone to trying to save his life, and Daniel couldn't bear the idea of facing his accusations if he survived the attack. His eyes landed on a dirty bundle of cloth and he grabbed it without thinking. It would have to do. He stuffed the cloth inside Einhardt's mouth, then grabbed a length of rope for another rack and bound it tightly around the man's head so that it went across his mouth, making it impossible for him to spit out the cloth.  
  
Daniel stared at the unconscious man in disbelief. If only he'd never found him. If only he had just died in the kitchen. There was no way they could let him leave the castle now. Daniel's stomach ached; he was sure he was going to be sick if he stayed there any longer.

Alexander. He had to get Alexander.  
  
He squared his shoulders and stormed out of the dungeon, trying to piece his thoughts together. He ran through the entrance hall, barely noticing the trail of blood Einhardt had left on the floor. The sun was just about to disappear behind the horizon, and Daniel stopped only for long enough to pull the thick velvet curtains shut, blocking all sunlight from the hall. Then he ran to the right wing, slammed the door open and burst into the baron's room without bothering to knock.  
  
”Alexander!”  
  
His call yielded no result at first. The baron was still asleep, his hands crossed over his chest as though in prayer. Daniel rushed to his bedside and, all propriety forgotten, grasped the elder's shoulders and shook him as hard as he could.  
  
”Alexander, you have to wake up!”  
  
The baron stirred, attempting to slap his hands away without opening his eyes. Daniel groaned in frustration and merely shook him harder.  
  
”What on earth are you—”  
  
”We have a problem,” Daniel cut across him. ”You have to come with me.”  
  
Alexander's eyes snapped open at the urgency in his voice. The brunette let go of him and he sat up, eyes raking over Daniel's dishevelled appearance. ”What have you done? You look awful.”  
  
”There's an outsider in the castle.”  
  
”What?”  
  
”One of the duke's men – a spy.”  
  
”Where is he?” Alexander said, getting up in one fluid movement. Daniel hastened to get out of his way; the baron's voice sounded as calm as ever, but his eyes had narrowed dangerously, and Daniel wouldn't have been surprised to see sparks flying out of them.  
  
”The dungeon. I… I have restrained him. Follow me.”  
  
Alexander's expression was murderous as they made their way downstairs. The Englishman barely dared to look at him but the force radiating from him was palpable, like standing on an open field in a thunderstorm, just waiting for the lightning bolt to strike. It made the hairs at the back of his neck stand up.  
  
”How did he get here?” the baron growled as he wrenched open the door to the cellar.  
  
”It was my fault,” Daniel said in a small voice. ”I found him injured in the woods and brought him here. I didn't know he was one of the duke's men, I swear—”  
  
”Was he alone?”  
  
”I think so.”

Alexander merely nodded to signal he had heard him.  
  
”What is going on? Why has the duke—”  
  
”That'll be enough questions for now,” Alexander cut across him, and the Englishman fell silent. His heart fell when they entered the small chamber were he'd left Einhardt; the man was awake and struggling in his bonds. He had a pause at the sight of the two men, his eyes darting wildly from Daniel to the baron as though putting two and two together, and he doubled his efforts to break free.  
  
Alexander eyed him quietly, lip curling in distaste. ”His Grace the duke Hohenzollern is growing too bold for my liking. It will not be long until he sends more of these pests after me lest we do something to eliminate that threat.”  
  
”Does… does this have something to do with what you and the duke talked about in the ball?”  
  
”I was wondering when you were going to ask,” Alexander replied. ”Nosy as you are, I would have thought you'd have asked me immediately after our return.”  
  
Daniel turned scarlet at his scathing tone. The baron ignored him.  
  
”Now, our guest here...” He approached the bound man, lifting his chin with one hand. ”I can smell life draining out of him with each second. What a sad fortune for such a loyal man.”  
  
”What should we do about him?”  
  
”There is little need to do anything, Daniel. He would bleed to death on his own if we left him like this.” Alexander let go of his chin, slowly drawing his hand across the man's chest and towards his belly. The baron paused there and pressed slightly, causing Einhardt to let out a muffled scream against the gag. ”See? There was nothing you could have done for him.”  
  
”Do we just leave him here, then?”  
  
”No,” Alexander drawled. He seemed unable to tear his eyes off the injured man. ”He will die regardless. I think we should guarantee him a swift death as one last act of hospitality.”  
  
”Sir?” the brunette asked hesitantly.  
  
”Cut his throat for me, Daniel.”  
  
”What?” he inhaled sharply. Still Alexander did not look away from Einhardt; he simply picked up one of the knifes and held it out to Daniel.  
  
”It's time you learned what it truly means to be loyal to me.”  
  
Daniel felt himself shaking all over, but when he took the knife his hand was quite steady. He could feel the bound man's eyes boring into him, his struggles amplified with new-found hatred, but to Daniel it seemed a distant, unimportant matter. A buzzing had filled his ears, not unlike the white noise that he'd come to associate with the blood-letting; it seemed to dull his senses, drown out the voice of reason screaming within his head.  
  
The elder's eyes glowed like smouldering embers in the dim light, entirely fixated on Einhardt's jugular. Daniel had never seen such a hungry expression on his face.  
  
”Do it,” Alexander said. ”Let me feast upon him.”  
  
Daniel seized the man's throat with his free hand, ignoring his trashing. He placed the tip of the knife against his skin, well away from his own hand, and drew the blade across Einhardt's exposed neck with one quick slash. Alexander let out a low moan. Something told Daniel he should look away from the grotesque sight, the blood gushing from the gaping wound and running over his fingers, but he stood there as though paralysed. Then, quite suddenly, the baron pushed him out of the way and Daniel found himself on the floor.  
  
Slowly, he pushed himself up, his blood-slicked hands making it difficult to get a proper hold of anything. Alexander was bent low with his mouth clamped over the wound, arms entangled in that deadly embrace around his victim. He was all too aware of the muffled sobs of the dying man, of his weak protests, and he couldn't help but wonder if, even in death, there was pleasure mingled with his passing. Did he feel even a fragment of what Daniel felt when the baron drank from him? Did he understand like Daniel understood?  
  
It seemed so bizarre to witness it, a mere bystander for once. Whenever he was bitten it felt like an eternity but Einhardt stopped twitching so very quickly, his body going completely limp, and the elder withdrew. His mouth was ruddy with the man's blood; much of it had dripped down to his collar. Daniel swallowed and made to approach him, but Alexander pushed him away.  
  
”There is no time for that,” he said brusquely. The scent of blood coming off him was stronger than Daniel ever recalled it being before.  
  
”But—”  
  
”How did he get to the woods? Was he alone? Did someone bring him?”  
  
”He rode alone from Altstadt as far as I understood. He said his horse got startled by something and cast him off.”  
  
Alexander nodded. ”Dispose of the body. I must go before the villagers are alerted of his disappearance.”  
  
”What? Go where?”  
  
But Alexander had already pushed the door open and disappeared into the dark corridor, and Daniel knew the vampyre was too far ahead for pursuit.

* * *

  
Later, he couldn't tell how long he had been alone in the castle. It felt like hours. Untying the body and carrying it into the morgue alone had taken him a reasonable amount of time; the full horror of what he'd just witnessed only dawned on him after Alexander was gone and he'd vomited until there was nothing left in his stomach and he felt like his intestines would come up next if he retched any more. He had tossed the bloody clothes into a washing basket, out of sight, and climbed into the bathtub despite there being no heated water. Ignoring the clattering of his teeth Daniel scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed till his skin was raw, but he felt like the blood refused to come off entirely even when his hands were as clean as a newborn's.  
  
He sat on the bed in clean clothes, staring at Hazel's portrait with hollow eyes. It was warm in the room but he couldn't stop shaking. It had begun raining as he'd washed and raindrops beat against the window panes quietly. He supposed it should have soothed his nerves.  
  
”I'm the same as he is,” he whispered and buried his face in his hands.  
  
_I'm a murderer._  
  
”I've killed a man.”  
  
_Murderer.  
  
_ He stomach burned still, but there was nothing that could come up any more. Something in him ached to cry of shame but no tears came to him. He couldn't stand it; he wanted to tear it out of him and bury it in a place where no one could stand witness to his guilt but it wouldn't come, it wouldn't leave him. And somewhere, deep beneath the terror, he knew it had been necessary. They'd had no other choice.  
  
”No other choice,” he said aloud. It sounded so desperate that he couldn't help laughing. He remembered the expression on Einhardt's face as the knife had been placed on his neck, and the laughter died away instantly. He felt repulsed with himself. ”That's what Alexander always says – that there's no choice.”  
  
_The baron is right, you know,_ said the small voice in his head. The Englishman dug his fingers in his hair until it hurt.  
  
”It's my fault he died. If I hadn't found him… if I'd just left him in the forest...”  
  
Daniel couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence. He hadn't been thinking straight. What on earth had possessed him to bring the man to Brennenburg?  
  
The door to the room slammed open and Alexander burst inside, looking thoroughly windswept. He was sopping wet and most of the blood on his front had been washed away by the rain.  
  
”I found his horse,” the baron said before Daniel had the chance to open his mouth.  
  
”How did you managed that? You don't even know where the man fell off.”  
  
”The scent,” he said simply. He took off his wet overcoat, giving it a shake so that water drops flew everywhere. ”The horse had cut itself in the undergrowth.”  
  
”So what do we do now?”  
  
”You must ride to town and rouse a search party.”  
  
” _Excuse me?_ ”  
  
”Tell them the horse showed up in Brennenburg without a rider and that you could not find him on your own. Rouse the outrider and his men. Have them search the area with you. If the word gets out that the good baron is going out of his way to find the lost rider, who just happens to turn out to be one of the duke's men, it should absolve any fresh rumours about the man's disappearance.”  
  
Daniel nodded grimly. He pushed himself up, trying to ignore the sick feeling in his gut. ”Understood. If the duke is already suspecting you...”  
  
”We must put an end to those suspicions now,” Alexander finished for him.  
  
”I must visit the place where I found him first. There must be blood everywhere from his fall.”  
  
”I doubt that'll be necessary. The rain will have washed off any signs of his accident.”  
  
”I'd best take a look in any case.”  
  
He gazed out of the window briefly. The rain seemed to be falling more heavily and when he stepped out into the courtyard it had turned into a downpour. The weather and the darkness had made the horse nervous and it took some convincing from Daniel to gain her trust before mounting. He was drenched within minutes and the forest offered little cover as he rode. He felt more tired than ever but he forced himself to focus only on the path ahead, the lantern he held in his left hand the only light they had.  
  
”Good girl,” he murmured to the horse as they slowly descended the treacherous road. It would be a long ride to Altstadt.

* * *

  
”Any sign of him down there?”  
  
”Nothing, sir!”  
  
Daniel felt ready to fall asleep right on the saddle. It had been almost dawn when he'd reached Altstadt, and the outrider had wasted no time rousing some trusty men to a search party. The Englishman thought he'd never be dry again; the rain had continued to fall heavily all day and they were all covered in mud. Gabriel looked about wearily, bringing his horse to stand next to Daniel's.  
  
”It's not looking too good,” he said seriously. ”If he left any tracks, the rain has washed them off already.”  
  
”Did he say anything whatsoever about where he was headed to? Any clues at all?”  
  
”None,” the outrider sighed. The shadows underneath his eyes seemed even more prominent now, after hours in the woods. ”Of course, there aren't that many places he could have been planning to visit. It's either Brennenburg or the surrounding woodlands that he wanted to see.”  
  
They had carefully rummaged through the forest, slowly ascending towards the castle hill by hill, cliff by cliff. To Daniel it felt like they'd turned the entire area upside-down by now. He'd had no idea there were so many steep drops hidden in the area, but the outrider commanded smaller parties to check each of them with the manner of someone who had done this many times before.  
  
”We ought to search the immediate surroundings of the castle, too,” Daniel told him. ”It was already getting dark when I found his horse in the garden. I might have missed something.”  
  
”We'll check it eventually. There's still a lot of ground to cover, and horses can wander long distances.”  
  
It was with some relief that Daniel had found out Einhardt had been traveling alone and that he hadn't shared any information about his visit with the townspeople. According to some of Gabriel's men he had been seen in the tavern the night before, talking with locals, but there hadn't been anything particularly memorable about him or anything he'd said. The innkeeper had let them investigate his room, but they had found nothing interesting beyond a small and rather unclear map of the area in his belongings.  
  
”It's the same story every year,” the outrider muttered. ”Travelers don't seem to understand that what they need is a guide.”  
  
”Do we have any ways to determine who he is?”  
  
”Was, more like.”  
  
”I sure hope not...”  
  
”It's been more than a day, Daniel. The odds are we won't find him alive anymore, if we find him at all.”  
  
Daniel mopped the wet hair off his face, staring into the drizzle. ”You may be right.”  
  
”This has happened too many times for me to be optimistic.”  
  
”What if there's someone out there waiting for him to come home?”  
  
”If there is, we can only hope they'll come looking for him or else we'll never find out who he was and where he came from.”  
  
The search party returned one by one, and they set off in slow trot up the hill. Daniel had been nervous when they'd neared the area where he had found Einhardt the day before, but it had been unnecessary. Just as the baron had anticipated, rain had washed off whatever marks the man's injuries had left.  
  
No matter where they looked the men returned empty-handed and frustrated, and Daniel begun to breathe more easily. Their journey took them higher and higher, and dusk was starting to fall when Gabriel turned to face them and called them all to him. Tired faces peered at him in the unrelenting rain.  
  
”It's growing late, gentlemen,” he said. ”I'm afraid we have to turn back for the day.”  
  
There was general mumble of agreement. Some of the men sighed and shook their heads, shoulders drooping in a way that told Daniel clearly that they had no more faith in finding the missing traveler. In the horizon there was a sudden flash of light and a distant rumble crept over the valleys towards them.  
  
”Looks like mother nature is telling us to end our search, too,” one of the men muttered.  
  
”What shall we do?” another asked.  
  
”I suggest we ride up to the castle and report to the baron,” Gabriel said. He had eyes on the approaching storm and Daniel knew he was calculating how quickly it would be upon them. ”We'll have to comb his lands in the coming days, see if there are any signs of the man – though I doubt it, if you want my professional opinion.”  
  
Daniel nodded, gathering the reins of his steed. ”Shall I lead the way?”  
  
”Please. Men, after us in orderly fashion.”  
  
The outrider rode beside Daniel, his good-natured face serious under the flecks of mud and dirt. They exchanged a brief, exhausted glance but said nothing as they approached Brennenburg.  
  
Wind had picked up by the time they galloped to the courtyard and every now and then thunder growled its displeasure in the distance. Darkness was falling fast and the only light was now coming from the castle windows. The gates stood open and as they dismounted the main door opened and Alexander stood on the threshold, watching their tired party. He was leaning against a cane.  
  
”Lord Baron,” the outrider said, taking off his hat. Behind him the other men mimicked him, gathering closer. They were a sorry-looking bunch indeed, every single one of them pale and dirty and sopping wet to their boots.  
  
”Gabriel,” Alexander replied solemnly. ”Any news of the missing man?”  
  
”None, sir. We have searched the woodlands tirelessly but this rain is making it hard to find any leads. We have decided to conclude our search for the day.”  
  
Alexander nodded, his eyes traveling from one man to another. ”A good decision, I think. There is a storm approaching and your men are weary. Come in, all of you. Let me offer you something to drink, and you can tell me the details of your search.”  
  
”Gladly, sir,” Gabriel said. Daniel rushed to the baron's side as the men stepped in, visibly relieved to get out of the rain and the cold.  
  
”Are you sure, sir?” Daniel asked in worrisome tones. ”You must be very tired. I can treat them should you feel the need to lay down.”  
  
Alexander shook his head. ”You are just as tired, Daniel, as are your companions. The least an old man such as I can do is offer the warmth of my house and some refreshments.”  
  
The kitchen was too small for so many men so they sat down on the steps of the staircase, dripping water everywhere and blatantly refusing to take a seat in the dining room for the fear of soiling it. Daniel and the outrider fetched glasses for them all, along with some wine. Much to Daniel's relief the kitchen bore no signs of Einhardt's presence; he guessed the baron had cleaned up while he'd been gone, anticipating they would have guests before long.  
  
Glasses and bottles were passed around and everyone drank with enthusiasm. Daniel joined them, sitting down and slowly draining his glass, savouring the warmth the alcohol was spreading into his extremes. He craved to lay down and pass out more than anything, but the wine was sweet and allowed him to forget momentarily how tired he was. The expressions of the men around him reflected his exhaustion and he felt sorry for them, knowing their troubles were pointless.  
  
Alexander and Gabriel stood slightly removed from the rest of the group, talking quietly. The outrider had taken the opportunity to stand by the fireplace and dry off his clothes the best he could. The brunette couldn't quite make out what they were saying, but their faces were serious. Though the baron had only just fed there were dark shadows underneath his eyes, and Daniel guessed worry had kept him awake most of the day. The cane and the hunched posture were more than enough to create the image of a frail elderly man and Gabriel seemed genuinely concerned as he looked at the baron.  
  
For a while the only sounds in the entrance hall was the tinkling of glasses and the slurps and burps of the men as they drank. Finally, the outrider and Alexander walked back to them. Gabriel cleared his throat and everyone turned to look at him.  
  
”The baron has graciously agreed to allow us access to his lands,” he told them. ”We'll extend our search to the castle surroundings tomorrow, should the weather relent enough.”  
  
”I pray that it will. The more time passes the smaller is the likelihood that you'll find him unharmed,” Alexander said. He had assumed a mournful expression and while Daniel knew it was just for a show, the men seemed to fall for it.  
  
”Shall I join them should the search continue, lord Baron, sir?” Daniel asked.  
  
”It would be good if you did. We must make every effort to find the poor man.”  
  
”Sir, I wouldn't want to deprive you of your only helping hand for two days in a row,” the outrider protested, but Alexander held up his hand and the man fell quiet immediately.  
  
”Nonsense,” he said. ”I can manage on my own if I must, and I daresay he'll be more use to you right now than he is to me.”  
  
Daniel was careful not to let it show on his face, but he knew when he was being scolded. He avoided the baron's eye and hoped the others would think the colour on his face was from the wine.  
  
”If you are sure, sir.”  
  
”I'll be only glad to aid you again, Gabriel,” Daniel rushed to say. ”The more able-bodied men we have the faster our search goes.”  
  
The outrider nodded and turned back to Alexander. ”Thank you ever so much for your hospitality, lord Baron, sir. Daniel, I'll take the man's horse back with us. Everyone, let us make haste towards Altstadt.”  
  
One by one the men got to their feet, slouching out into the rain again. Daniel watched them go and slowly gathered up their empty glasses while Alexander shook hands with Gabriel, exchanging last few words for the night. Then the door closed and Daniel found himself alone with Alexander.  
  
The baron turned around, eyebrows raised expectantly.  
  
”Well?”  
  
”It seems they don't know anything about the man. He hadn't so much as given his name to the innkeeper.”  
  
Alexander cursed under his breath, making the Englishman jump.  
  
”Alexander? Sir?”  
  
”Of all the possible scenarios,” the baron muttered. ”This will make things more troublesome.”  
  
”I'm not sure I'm following.”  
  
Alexander shot him an irritable glance and Daniel instinctively stepped back. ”Do you have a brain in that head of yours or not? It's obvious, Daniel. I cannot report one of the duke's men missing when he never told anyone he was on the duke's business in the first place. We will have to wait for his next move instead.”  
  
”I'm sorry,” he whispered. ”I never should have brought him to the castle.”  
  
”It doesn't matter now. Go and get changed. I'll see you in your quarters later.”

* * *

  
He hadn't been happy to wash himself again within such a short time span but there was no helping it. Sighing ruefully he'd stripped off the dirty clothes, ready for another round with the icy water, but to his immense relief he'd found a certain someone – despite his sour mood – had heated up the water in his absence, making the task much more tolerable. Too much bathing couldn't be good for a person, he thought, but the warm water felt heavenly nonetheless.  
  
The wind was making the window panes rattle eerily and the growl of thunder had crept much closer, but Daniel found it easier to ignore it now that he was finally warm and dressed in dry clothes. He could feel the burden of Einhardt's death pressing heavily upon him but he was too tired, too spent to focus on it, and he pushed it firmly off his mind. Had they really had a choice?  
  
There was a knock on the door and Daniel sighed inwardly, bracing himself.  
  
”Please come in, sir.”  
  
”Why are we slipping back to formalities again, Daniel?”  
  
”I was under the impression you were displeased with me.”  
  
Alexander stepped in, closing the door after himself. He still looked weary, but not quite as sullen as before.  
  
”It may have been my mistake not to tell you about the duke's intentions earlier,” the baron said. ”I have known of his suspicions for a long time.”  
  
”What do you think will happen next?”  
  
”I will no doubt hear from him once he realises his spy never came back. It's inevitable.”  
  
Daniel opened the clasps of the window and pushed it open. Cool air drifted into the drawing room and he inhaled slowly, the smell of rain much more enjoyable now that he was indoors. After a moment Alexander had joined him, crossing his arms on the window sill and watching the storm raging outside.  
  
”I wish we hadn't needed to kill him,” the brunette said quietly.  
  
”Sometimes such things are inevitable.”  
  
”How can you stand it?”  
  
”Because I must,” the elder replied.  
  
Daniel closed his eyes, bowing his head in the wind that whipped raindrops against his skin so hard that it almost hurt. A gust caught in his hair, billowing it all about. He thought back on what it had felt like to cut open another person's neck and watch the life drain out of him. It had made something innocent within him shrivel up into something less than human and the loss of it made him want to cry. The rain running down his cheeks felt almost like tears if he concentrated enough; there was something soothing in that thought.  
  
”Is this what you meant earlier?” he asked, eyes still closed. ”About what it means being loyal to you?”  
  
He hadn't heard the baron move but an arm draped itself around his shoulders, squeezing firmly. ”Yes. This is the burden you'll have to bear should you choose to stay with me, Daniel.”  
  
”To kill for you?”  
  
”To share in on my secrets and bear all that comes with them.”  
  
His touch was comfortingly warm and as though by instinct Daniel leaned against it. It seemed so naive, now, that he'd thought he could demand Alexander's loyalty to him and expect to sacrifice nothing in return. Daniel had wanted that bond with him whole-heartedly then; he knew he still wanted it now.  
  
”If that's what it takes,” he said finally, his voice drowning in the howling wind.  
  
He had already chosen this path long ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so the plot thickens! Things are getting murkier and murkier for poor Daniel on the edge of summer. I feel sorry for him, his sanity is really taking a toll there with all that's happening. What'll happen next? We'll see in two weeks' time! Meanwhile, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and thanks so much for the recent kudos and comments!
> 
> It's been a busy couple of weeks for me x_x I'm doing Inktober this year and producing an entire ink painting each day takes a lot of commitment, but I'm glad I've been able to set aside some time to write, too.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'And our love is a ghost that the others can't see  
> It's a danger  
> Every shade of us you fade down to keep  
> Them in the dark on who we are'
> 
> Familiar – Agnes Obel

_June 1841_

The storm had blown itself out overnight, but it had still been bleak the next morning when the search party had marched back to the castle and taken Daniel with them. After three more days of scouring the damp woods Gabriel had been forced to admit there was no point in continuing; they hadn't found anything whatsoever, and the men had returned to town in low spirits. Daniel had been more than happy to return to his normal chores, however. He wasn't accustomed to riding and he was sure he'd spend the rest of his life walking bandy-legged if he didn't stay off the saddle for good.

Quite unnoticed by anyone spring had turned to summer and the changing temperatures brought along a succession of thunderstorms. Daniel found it enjoyable to watch, though it confined him firmly indoors. There had never been quite this much thunder in England and the hilly landscape seemed to make sure any form of storm got stuck spiralling over the valley of Altstadt until it finally blew itself out.  
  
The flashes of lightning often kept him up until early hours, but Daniel quite welcomed it. While the incident with Einhardt had certainly driven his focus away from Alexander and obsessing over when he'd next need to feed, he found it just as difficult to sleep as he had earlier. His guilty conscious wasn't so easily satisfied, no matter how much he told himself he had made his decision.  
  
His journal lay abandoned on the desk; he had no desire to write down anything that had occurred in the past weeks. And even if he did, what good would it do? It was already difficult to write in it truthfully as it was, all the while keeping his accounts as vague as possible in case anyone else ever got their hands on the book.

”I can't tell if I've made the right choice any more,” he told Hazel's portrait one night. He had moved the small picture onto his bedside table, so that her eyes were on him when he tried to sleep. ”I made this pact with Alexander so that no one else would get hurt, yet...”  
  
It might as well have been useless, he thought darkly. They'd just ended up in much worse trouble in the end.  
  
He wondered how quickly the duke would make his next move. He waited and waited to see if the outrider would arrive with another summons or if he'd bring the sheriff with him the next time, to inspect the castle without the baron's permission, but no one came, and it only served to deepen his concern.  
  
”You seem nervous,” Alexander pointed out one night, when Daniel had had enough of tossing in the sheets and decided to join him in the parlour instead.  
  
”I'm just wondering,” he muttered. ”The duke hasn't approached you yet about the man's disappearance.”  
  
”He will take his time. He's deeply involved in the matters of state, after all.”  
  
”Do you think he'll send you an invitation again?”  
  
”It's more likely he'll send _for_ me,” the baron said, quite unconcerned. ”Unless I do something to act first.”  
  
”Like what?”  
  
”Challenge him in his own game.”  
  
Daniel stared at him expectantly but the baron turned back to his piano, already striking up a different melody. The Englishman could only hope the elder had a plan formulating in his mind, and that he'd share it with him eventually.  


* * *

  
It was impossible not to notice how the nights had waned into just several short twilit hours. Daniel noticed he was barely seeing Alexander these days; even as he laid down to bed at night there was a soft, blueish glow just beneath the treeline, threatening him with a new dawn. The sun seemed determined to drive him out of bed at odd hours and sometimes he simply got up to watch the sunrise on the grounds, huddled underneath his apple tree.  
  
Herbert's letters came more frequently now that the weather was agreeable. Daniel had taken into writing his replies outdoors, and as there was less to do in the garden now that the blooming season had started, he could sometimes sit in the shade for hours with a quill in his hand before returning to his chores.  
  
It was with some pride that he noted the rose bushes had sprouted fresh new leaves and some were already developing buds. The ivy climbing the walls had turned a lush green and seemed to be following his plan to take over the windowless part of the right wing, and the lawn was now strewn with bright, egg-yolk yellow dandelions. His tulips had bloomed in a rainbow of colours, gaining him a compliment from the farmer when he arrived with his wagon. Daniel carefully noted all these little changes in his letters, taking particular enjoyment in sketching his tulips on the bottom of a page for the professor to see.  
  
Even after sundown the grounds were alive with smells and sounds of nature, and one night Daniel felt no desire to return indoors. A blackbird sat perched on the branches of the gnarly apple tree and he watched it from a distance, sitting on the ground. Daniel closed his eyes, and for a while he was back in London, sitting on the edge of Hazel's bed as they listened, hypnotised, to the lone blackbird singing its heart out right outside her bedroom window. He wasn't sure, but he thought they had been her favourites, blackbirds. She had liked their singing.  
  
”Daniel?”  
  
He was surprised to open his eyes and find the baron striding across the lawn. The elder seldom left the castle, even less now that the nights were so short.  
  
”Evening, Alexander,” he called out as the other man came to a halt beside him.  
  
”It's almost midnight. What are you still doing outside?”  
  
Daniel shrugged. ”It's a pleasant night. I quite like listening to the birds.”  
  
Alexander closed his eyes and said nothing for several long moments, his expression one of utmost concentration. Slowly, he smiled.  
  
”It's soothing to listen to, is it not?” the brunette asked.  
  
The baron nodded. He opened his eyes again, looking around the dark grounds as though seeing it for the first time. ”I barely recognise my own garden any more. You have truly transformed it.”  
  
”It looked quite dreary before, if it's not impolite to say so.”  
  
”It's not impolite to speak the truth,” the baron said with a chuckle. ”I used to be fond of plants, but my limitations make it rather difficult to manage a garden now.”  
  
”You told me once that you have studied botany.”  
  
”Ah, yes. It used to be my favourite subject. I often find that plants make for more enjoyable company than humans and are much better listeners.”  
  
Daniel smirked. He was still no gardener, certainly, but he could appreciate the elder's fondness of plants after all the hours working outdoors.  
  
”The lilac bushes are still thriving, it seems,” Alexander said thoughtfully.  
  
”Bushes? When was the last time you saw them?” the younger man laughed. ”They're the size of trees now.”  
  
”It may have been a while.”  
  
The night air was heavy with the scent of the lilacs and Daniel inhaled it slowly. He had barely noticed the trees until they had suddenly bloomed a few days previously, the heavy clusters of purple and white flowers spreading their sweet aroma into the garden.  
  
”Daniel,” the baron said again.  
  
”Yes?”  
  
”Will you walk with me for a bit?”  
  
The brunette got up, brushing grass off his trousers. Alexander offered him his arm and without a word he took it, setting off at a slow pace between the flower beds. Daniel could tell the elder had something in his mind; he seemed unusually withdrawn, as though worried about something. The Englishman quite wanted to ask him what it was but something told him there was nothing to be gained from rushing him, and so they walked in silence for several minutes, only listening to the birds go about their nocturnal concert.  
  
”How did you get your hands on tulips?” the baron asked suddenly. Daniel blinked, trying to process what he'd just said.  
  
”Tulips? Oh, a gardener in town was able to arrange some bulbs upon my request. I'm not sure where he trades for them, but they make for a lovely display.”  
  
”Quite unusual that a merchant should stock them in such a remote location,” Alexander noted. ”They must have cost a fortune.”  
  
”I covered the cost from my own wages.”  
  
Alexander frowned. ”There was no need for you to do that. Why didn't you ask me for help?”  
  
”Is that what you wanted to talk about? Tulips?”  
  
The baron came to a halt, pulling Daniel face to face with him. Even in the dark the younger man could make out how serious he looked.  
  
”Listen to me, Daniel. The incident with the duke will not be the last; we can fully expect there will be repercussions. Sooner or later I will be forced to deal with him.” He took a deep breath, obviously searching for the right words. ”I cannot promise you'll never have to kill again.”  
  
”I know.”  
  
”No, you don't. It's much more complicated than you believe.”  
  
”Is it?” He saw the baron open his mouth but Daniel cut across him before he managed to get a word out. ”You don't think I realised I might have to kill him the moment I found out who he was? I knew it, Alexander, and I struck him even before you commanded me to, before you'd so much as seen him. I knew it was inevitable.”  
  
”Inevitable, yes, but you've been opposed to killing since you arrived here—”  
  
”I have and I am still, but things have changed since then.”  
  
”Your safety is threatened as long as you are with me!”  
  
”I haven't asked for safety, only loyalty.”  
  
Alexander stared at him.  
  
”You spoke to me of loyalty before,” Daniel continued. ”I demanded it of you long before you demanded it of me, remember? To share your blood with me and no one else?”  
  
”That's different, Daniel.”  
  
”It doesn't matter whether it's different or not. I have vowed to serve you to my best ability, and I still intend to keep my word. I'm prepared to go as far as you need me to.”  
  
”Even if you'll have to kill for me again?”  
  
His hands balled into fists at the thought, but he nodded.  
  
”Even so.”  
  
The vampyre's eyes gleamed in the dark and Daniel shuddered instinctively when a cold, pale hand reached out and caressed his cheek. Alexander had come so close to him that he could almost feel the other man's breath.  
  
”Will you pledge yourself into my service once more?” the baron said quietly. His voice barely carried over the soft murmur of the wind.  
  
”Always.”  
  
”Let me partake in your blood, Daniel.”  
  
Slowly, the Englishman unbuttoned his collar down to his chest. ”It's yours to take.”  
  
Daniel allowed himself to be pulled into an icy embrace, one of the elder's hands snaking into his hair and cradling his head. The gesture was almost tender and Daniel wondered, as he had wondered a thousand times before, what compelled Alexander to show him any such gentleness at the moment of feeding. What did it matter to a demon what his prey felt? But then Alexander's mouth was upon his neck and roaming over his naked skin oh so carefully, as though afraid of breaking him, and when his cold kisses ghosted over his jugular Daniel couldn't tell if they were predator and prey at all. His own arms had wrapped themselves tightly around the baron's neck, and in his mind's eye he imagined the two of them in the dark garden, like a pair of lovers in the dark.  
  
_Lovers._ He couldn't pull away from the word even when teeth sunk into his flesh. It made no sense yet there they were, wrapped up in each other as one being, impossibly close. And when Alexander pulled out his fangs he kissed the bruised skin until it stopped bleeding, making Daniel want to push against him, pull him even closer until there were no edges between them any more.  
  
”Kiss me,” Daniel heard himself murmur, and the elder complied with such force that it made his toes curl. _Lovers,_ he thought once more, and Alexander's hand pressed against the small of his back. But it simply did not make sense. He had always been told that mortal men couldn't love each other as a man and a woman could. He couldn't say what made him want the other man as he wanted, but he knew sense had nothing to do with it, and whatever was said of mortal men, it did not apply where Alexander was concerned.  
  
The next thing he knew was that the vampyre had him pinned against a cold, hard stone wall. His knees felt weak but Alexander held him so tightly that he couldn't fall.  
  
”Are you alright?”  
  
”Yes,” he managed.  
  
They stood there for a moment in each other's arms, catching their breaths.  
  
”We should return indoors,” Alexander began. The younger man shook his head.  
  
”I want to stay here a while longer – listen to the birds.”  
  
”Alright,” the baron agreed. And with surprising ease he lifted Daniel into his arms and carried him across the yard, moving so quickly that it seemed to only take a heartbeat until they were by the lilac trees. Alexander let him down, as though he'd done nothing out of the ordinary. Daniel could only stare at him, aware that he should have felt insulted about being carried like some frail maiden. Instead, he decided to let it go and laid down in the grass. After a while, the baron sat down next to him.  
  
”I haven't looked at the stars in ages,” the brunette said. The grass felt pleasantly cool under him.  
  
Alexander's eyes, too, were on the sky above but he said nothing. Daniel breathed slowly, trying to get accustomed to the drowsiness that he'd come to anticipate after being bitten. He thought he recognised many familiar shapes in the stars blinking gently down at them, though their names did not come to him.  
  
The silence that settled between them was a comfortable one – there didn't seem to be any need to speak. Daniel closed his eyes, his sense of time blurring until he couldn't tell how long he had been lying there. The wind had died down into nothing but a soft breeze, some of the birds still occasionally breaking into song though it had grown late. Somewhere in the distance Daniel thought he heard a nightingale sing once, twice, and then it was gone.  
  
”An hour to sunrise,” Alexander muttered finally.  
  
The brunette opened his eyes slowly and noticed how the stars had become much paler, the inky blackness of the skies breaking into a watery blue. There was a faint glow behind the trees that suggested another day was on its way, and all around in the woods birds were announcing its arrival with their usual cheer.

Daniel craned his neck to look at the baron.  
  
”How can you tell?”  
  
”I can feel it. We all learn to recognise it eventually. Someone I knew used to describe it as a warning signal.”  
  
”It wasn't that person you tried to turn, was it?”  
  
Even lying in the grass Daniel could tell the elder was avoiding his eye.  
  
”No,” he said quietly. ”He was the apprentice of the man I tried to turn.”  
  
”What happened?”  
  
The baron shook his head. ”Perhaps I'll tell you one day, Daniel, but it's not today.”  
  
”Alright.” Daniel settled more comfortably in the grass. Despite the cool air he could have dozed off there, much more at ease there than he was in his own bed.  
  
”The nights have grown so short,” Alexander said. His eyes were on the sky again.  
  
”They have,” the younger man agreed. ”We barely see each other these days.”  
  
”You sound disappointed.”  
  
”It's just a shame. I enjoy your company.”  
  
He pushed himself into a sitting position, facing Alexander. Now, so close to dawn, he could see how much fuller the elder's face had become again, the newly-drunk blood bringing a healthy glow to his skin once more. Above them the sky was turning purple.  
  
”The nights will continue to wane still,” the baron said. ”Until midsummer.”  
  
He got to his feet and Daniel could tell that despite having fed he was growing weary, the safety of his chamber calling him to rest.  
  
”Then I'll wait. I'll count the daylight hours until I can see you again.”  
  
Alexander turned to look at him and there was a wondering expression in his eyes. Then, slowly, his face broke into a small smile and he nodded once, turned around, and walked as silently as a ghost across the lawn until the vanished from sight, leaving Daniel to watch the sunrise alone.

* * *

  
_July 1841_

Midsummer came and went, bringing with it even longer days and a heat that seemed to linger even past sundown. It was an effort to keep the garden thriving under the overbearing sun and Daniel's back cried for mercy as he filled the watering can over and over again, carrying it across the yard many times daily.

He barely wore more than one of his white undershirts and a pair of trousers but it did nothing to relieve the heat of the day. Only in the shade of surrounding trees could he take a breather and rest between chores, and come nightfall he often found himself so exhausted that he drifted off to dreamless sleep as soon as his head hit the pillows.  
  
And Alexander hid himself from the sun, and the moments when the Englishman caught glimpses of him became so few that once or twice he crept into the baron's quarters during the day to make sure he was still there. Daniel wondered if he dreamt as mortal men dreamt; if his dreams were as vivid and as ordinary, or if his slumber was simply to rest his body, a period when he lay unconscious without his mind taking control. But the vampyre's face remained unchanged in expression no matter how long Daniel stared, and he left as quietly as he'd come, leaving the other to his rest.  
  
A part of him mourned the time he lost with Alexander, but it was a welcome change that he was able to sleep through the night now. It was the first time after Einhardt's death that he had been able to sleep without reliving the incident in his dreams, and it worked wonders on his working morale.  
  
The singing of birds woke him early in the morning, and even with the curtains drawn a beam of sunlight always made its way into his bedroom from one sliver or another. Daniel sat up, stretched slowly and rubbed the sleep off his eyes, then dressed into his day clothes. Pulling open the curtains showed it would be another day of clear, blue skies; he opened the window and even this early he could tell it would be stiflingly hot in the afternoon.  
  
It was still pleasantly cool inside the castle, however, and he walked downstairs without much hurry. He prepared a small breakfast, assessing the day's chores in his head, and it was only when he sat down that he noticed the note on the table.  
  
Daniel pulled it closer, recognising the baron's handwriting. ' _Please have the outrider deliver these as soon as possible,'_ was all it said, and sure enough, there was a pile of letters stacked neatly on the table, not too far away from the note. Daniel flipped through them while eating his breakfast but none of the recipients seemed familiar to him, none except…  
  
He reached the last letter in the pile and nearly gagged on his food. The name on the envelope said nothing to him but Alexander had written down a whole litany of titles beneath it, making it impossible not to tell whom it was meant for. The duke Hohenzollern.  
  
Daniel could only stare at the envelope, hoping the baron knew what he was doing.  
  
”This can't be good,” he muttered, but returned the letter into the pile obediently.  
  
He spent most of the day with his mind on the awaiting letters, sparing very little thought to his chores, but Alexander did not appear that evening nor the next, and the brunette couldn't do more than wait.  
  
The next morning Gabriel arrived with the farmer and his wagons, bearing much needed goods. Daniel's stomach growled in thanks; the pantry had started to get unpleasantly empty and his meals hadn't seen much variety in the past week.  
  
”Morning, Daniel!” the outrider called, jumping down from his saddle. Though it was still early, sweat was trickling down his forehead.  
  
”Good morning, gentlemen,” he answered. He shook hands briefly with the outrider and the farmer. ”It's a warm day for such demanding work.”  
  
”That it is,” the farmer puffed. He pulled out a handkerchief, mopping his brow. He was sweating even worse than Gabriel in his traveling uniform. ”Let's get to unloading this, shall we?”  
  
Even between the three of them it was hard work, and they were all exhausted when the wagons finally stood empty of new deliveries. There wasn't much that needed to be taken back to the town apart from old crates and barrels that needed refilling, and they all sat down in the shade after they were done carrying wares.  
  
”It's so warm I'm tempted to just sleep in the cellar,” Daniel sighed.  
  
”At least it gets cooler up here. Be glad you don't live in town.”  
  
”Oh, Gabriel, while I still remember,” he said, reaching into his pocket. He pulled out the stack of letters. ”The baron wishes to have these delivered urgently. I hate to bother you when you are already so busy, but...”  
  
The outrider took the letters, looking at the recipients' names briefly. He nodded nonchalantly. ”There's no harm in a little extra work, is there? No, don't you worry, Daniel, I'll take care of these.”  
  
”I'd be very thankful.”  
  
The two men stayed for long enough to fill him in on the latest gossips, none of which thankfully involved disappearances or suspicions regarding Brennenburg. Daniel glanced briefly towards the storehouse, thinking of all the work waiting for him, but he decided not to linger too much on it. It was hot even in the shade and he much preferred the company and the chatter to burning his neck in the sun. Gabriel and the farmer seemed in no particular hurry to be on their way, either, and it was only later in the afternoon when Daniel offered them the last cups of water and waved them goodbye.  
  
The duke's letter was still a nagging worry in his gut, though, and there was nothing the sun nor the heat could do about that. When he returned indoors after dusk, finally done repairing one of the toolsheds, he was drenched in sweat and ready to turn in for the night. He was climbing up the stairs when a voice spoke to him.  
  
”Have you taken care of the letters?”  
  
Daniel jumped. He hadn't noticed the elder at all, lounging by the windows at the top of the stairs.  
  
”The outrider came today. I told him to deliver them as soon as he could.”  
  
Alexander nodded, seeming content. ”It seems you have been hard at work.”  
  
”The weather is ideal for constructions,” he shrugged. He was painfully aware that he reeked of sweat, his shirt stained with dirt and tar. ”I noticed that one of the letters was addressed to the duke.”  
  
”Yes.”  
  
”I don't want to pry, but why would you possibly wish to correspond with him now?”  
  
Alexander watched him thoughtfully, as though considering how much to tell him, and Daniel was quite sure that was exactly what it was. ”I am going to take him by surprise. I will not allow that man to dictate my moves any longer.”  
  
”What do you mean?”  
  
The baron smiled, his lips pulling back to reveal his teeth. ”I have requested an audience with him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *rubs hands together* Well, this is something I've looked forward to for a while! It's summer and things have calmed down for a bit - or at least on the surface. It felt good to give them a little breather from all the worrisome stuff, some space to focus on one another.
> 
> I've been meaning to say this before, but I really hope Daniel's slightly homophobic attitude isn't triggering to anyone or making any of you guys uncomfortable. People weren't as socially aware of same-sex romance in the 1840s as they are today, even though gay couples have always existed in history, and Daniel probably hasn't given it much thought until now. Don't worry, though, he'll get there eventually and realise he's being a dumbass. He strikes me as a guy who'd have a very traditional view on marriage and see it as a thing of convenience rather than love, so he probably doesn't put too much weight on romantic love in general. Oh boy, what a doofus. Denial is a sweet, sweet thing.
> 
> Anyway, thank you so much for all the comments, kudos and bookmarks so far! <3 Inktober, the month-long drawing challenge I've been participating in, is finally coming to an end and I'll have more time to dedicate to writing now. I really hope you all enjoyed this chapter, see you in the next one in two weeks!


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Kindness is something I don't want or need  
> The sunshine would just dissolve me into light  
> Give me a pain as pleasing as your sigh  
> So I can feel you all the day and night  
> And keep me from fading away'
> 
> Joanne Hogg – Pain

_August 1841  
  
_ He was in the ballroom again, quietly lounging against the back wall and watching the couples turn stiffly to the music. A great chandelier hung low from the ceiling, lit with a hundred melting candles. Its glow seemed somehow distorted and made the edges of the room into quivering shadows, and if he watched them for too long he could feel a headache starting to build up.  
  
Ah. There it was again. His temples seemed to throb and Daniel made to rub them with his fingers, but he met resistance even as he tried to press against skin. Confused, he ran his hands over the strange thing pressing against his skin, and suddenly it dawned on him. It was a mask.  
  
_'I'm glad that you have joined us again, sir,'_ trilled the lady in a rabbit mask on his left side. Only her mouth was visible, lips painted with such a sickening red that they looked like an open wound.

_'Why am I masked?'_

She laughed again. Somehow, the sound drowned out even the music. _'But why, sir, this is a masquerade!'  
  
_ The woman on his right side laughed too, and Daniel turned to look at her instead. Her mask was black and huge, bearing the likeness of some great antlered animal. Where her eyes should have been were a pair of rubies, unblinking and glistening. Her mouth split into a mocking smile.  
  
_'What an amusing gentleman!'  
  
_ The woman on the left giggled again and suddenly both her arms had wrapped around his upper arm. Daniel looked at her again, her alabaster-white mask only inches from his face now. As she laughed the features of the mask twisted grotesquely as though it were moulded to her face, wrinkles appearing around the eye holes, brows shifting and arching. Veins of gold were painted down the cheeks, making it look like she was crying.  
  
_'Sir Daniel always says such amusing things,'_ she said, pressing against him. Her tone was oddly familiar, but it seemed to have a hollow echo to it that hadn't been there before.  
  
_'Margaret?'  
  
_ She squeezed his arm tighter. _'Dance with me, sir. Show papa that you can.'  
  
'But it's not proper, my lady.'  
  
'He won't recognise you in the mask. Show him how beautifully you can dance. __T_ _hen_ _I can_ _reveal you to him.'  
  
_ He wanted to protest but couldn't think of a single thing to say, and she pulled him on the dance floor without another word. The other dancers didn't so much as look at them, yet somehow Margaret managed to manoeuvre around them until they found an unoccupied spot. She grasped his hands tightly and smiled; her mouth was full of needle-sharp teeth. Daniel recoiled but she held him tight, only pulling him closer.  
  
_'Why won't you dance with me?'  
  
'There… there is no music,' _ Daniel stammered. He was suddenly aware of how quiet it had become, and every single eye seemed fixed on him and his partner. Still the dancers moved around them to the same, lazy rhythm, the rustle of skirts and clicking of heels now magnified in the silence. Margaret smiled wider.  
  
_'Then make us some music.'_

He stared at her, nodding slowly. He began humming a melody and took her in his arms, and all around them the dancers adjusted into the new rhythm in unspoken unison. The music seemed to come to him effortlessly, without needing to think, and after a moment he realised it was the first waltz Alexander had taught him. A flicker of annoyance passed over the white rabbit-like face. _  
  
'You would think of him even now? Even with me in your arms?'  
  
_ Daniel did not interrupt the melody to answer her. Margaret's eyes had turned cold like agates, glazed and gleaming in the dim light. He shook his head, trying to shake off the image, but when his gaze focused on her again he saw that where her eyes should have been were two milky orbs of polished stone. _  
  
'He could never love you,' _ she hissed. _'He is as cold and dead as a statue of marble, white and unyielding and cruel.'  
  
_ Still Daniel didn't answer. Her stone gaze held him hypnotised and he could not look away, no matter how much he may have wanted to. This seemed to aggravate her even further and with a snarl she shoved him away.  
  
_'I am alive! I am a woman, I am heat and flesh and blood!'_ With a rapid movement her hands, now claw-like, ripped open the front of her dress, but instead of a woman's bosom there was only a gaping hole, raw, red and throbbing, and her insides quivered as she breathed. Daniel wanted to yell but his mouth would not obey, and the melody flowed from him uninterrupted. Margaret held his gaze, and the face of the hare had melted into hers.  
  
_'Do you not desire the warmth of a woman's flesh? Do you not want to touch me?'_ She stepped closer, and blood oozed from the hole as she moved.  
  
Behind her, the towering shape of an ox in the duke's clothes watched them and nodded. His face was as white as his daughter's, but with mad, red eyes. He stared at Daniel expectantly.  
  
_'You cannot refuse the duke's daughter,'_ the hare that had been Margaret told him. _'Come and burrow into my flesh again and again!'  
  
_ Daniel backed away from her, stumbling backwards and into the surrounding dancers. They continued circling them even now and he could not break through their ranks to escape to the edges of the room again.  
  
_'Come partake in my flesh and blood,'_ the duke beckoned with a terrible voice, making the very floor tremble. Next to him stood a figure clad entirely in red, wearing the face of a fox.

Daniel blinked and stared at the figure again. The white hair behind the mask seemed oddly familiar, and suddenly he recognised the man. It was Alexander.  
  
_'Won't you accept her blood?'_ he asked in a whisper. It shouldn't have carried over the music but it seemed to reach into Daniel's consciousness much more clearly than any of the other voices. The music died, his mouth released of its spell. The fox stepped forwards, reached behind his head and untied the mask, letting it drop to the floor.  
  
_'I won't,'_ Daniel said, straightening his back. The hare gaped at him, stone eyes gleaming.  
  
Alexander walked silently across the floor, coming to stand behind Margaret. He placed his hands on her bared shoulders. _'You won't partake in her blood?'_ the baron asked again.  
  
_'I won't.'  
  
_ Margaret shuddered as the baron's hands caressed her neck. The duke had turned away, his back to the scene.  
  
_'So chooses the lamb, flesh woman,'_ the baron whispered into her ear.  
  
_'Lamb?'_ Daniel asked. He lifted his hands to touch the mask over his face but it fell from his grasp almost instantly, as though someone had untied the laces. It clattered on the floor and the world shifted in and out of focus sickeningly. Daniel knelt down and made to pick up the mask, but where there had been a mask now lay the severed head of a sheep. He yelled loudly and sprang to his feet.  
  
Alexander's smile was like a razor. He watched the head roll across the floor and stop at his feet, the white wool stained red. Slowly, Daniel brought a hand to his neck, touching the skin there lightly. The fingers came away bloody.

_'So chooses the lamb,'_ the vampyre repeated. And with one fluid movement he sank his fangs into the hare's neck, drawing a piercing scream from her.  
  
”Margaret!” Daniel shouted and the image shattered. He found himself staring into darkness, chest heaving. It took him a minute to realise what he was seeing was the dark canopy of his bed. He pushed himself into a sitting position, gazing about wildly. Relief washed over him as he slowly acknowledged he was all alone in his own comfortable bedroom, dawn still an hour or so away judging by the faint glow in the horizon.  
  
”Oh, God,” he groaned, slumping back on the bed. He buried his face in hands. ”What was that?”  
  
He lay there quietly for quite some time, listening to the birdsong wafting in through the open window. Slowly his racing heart calmed down and he breathed more easily, adrenaline making way for exhaustion. He thought he might be able to sleep peacefully for a couple more hours when he heard the quiet yet unmistakeable creak of a door, and his eyes flew open again. He squinted at the door, quite unsurprised to see the outlines of a man on his threshold.  
  
”Are you asleep?”  
  
”Not quite,” Daniel replied quietly. The baron approached soundlessly, coming to sit on the edge of his bed.  
  
”I surmised as much. I heard you yell.”  
  
”I had a dream, that's all. It was rather vivid.”  
  
The Alexander in his dream had seemed a monster, quite different from the man perched on his bed. He seemed thin and frail, and even in the faint morning light Daniel could make out the worried look in his eyes.  
  
”Your heartbeat is faster than usual. A nightmare?”  
  
Daniel sighed. ”It's nothing to worry about. The heat is making it difficult to sleep properly.”  
  
”I see.”  
  
”Was there something you needed, Alexander? It's quite close to sunrise already.”  
  
The baron took his hand between both of his own and Daniel winced. His skin was icy cold.  
  
”Ah,” he said.  
  
”Is that alright with you?” the elder asked.  
  
”Do I have to leave the bed for that?”  
  
”I don't think so.”  
  
”Then I have no protests,” the brunette answered, quirking a small smile. The baron bent low to kiss his forehead and Daniel closed his eyes at the touch. He heard the vampyre climb over him, the rustling of sheets; it all blurred together with the sounds of the birds and the leaves quivering in the wind.

Though dawn was drawing closer Alexander did not seem to be in any particular hurry, placing lazy kisses on the younger man's lips as he undid the buttons of his nightshirt. Daniel felt too sleepy to do much more than tip back his head and softly return his kisses. He merely wrapped his arms around the baron's shoulders as he fed, and when he was done Daniel let him button up his shirt again without reciprocating. He lifted his hand to brush against the elder's cheek once.  
  
”I wish you could stay,” the brunette murmured.  
  
Alexander pulled the covers back over his chest, pausing only to ruffle his hair once before getting up. ”Rest well, Daniel. I'll see you in the evening.”  


* * *

It was only late in the evening that he realised something wasn't quite right. He seldom paid attention to exhaustion; he tired easily in the heat anyway and thus didn't think much of it. He felt oddly light-headed and a dull throbbing seemed to have settled into his joints over the course of the day, unwilling to vanish even when clouds rolled in towards the night and brought with them a light drizzle that cooled the temperature considerably.

Daniel ignored his exhaustion, accounting it for the usual soreness of physical work, and instead sat in the baron's company until midnight. When he finally returned to his quarters he simply dived into bed and was asleep within minutes. The next morning his sheets were drenched in sweat and Daniel was shivering violently. He only needed to touch his forehead to understand what was happening; he was practically burning up.  
  
”Of all possible things,” he groaned, but complaining did very little to improve his condition. All he could do was change the sheets and put on dry clothes, and pray that the fever would go down in a day or two.  
  
Daniel soon found out that he was out of luck. The summer heat showed no signs of relenting, yet he lay in his bed, feverish and sneezy, three days later. On the fourth evening he awoke to the sound of his bedroom door being pushed open.  
  
”I was wondering why you hadn't shown up recently. Have you fallen ill?”  
  
He blinked blearily, and it took him a moment to register that Alexander had entered the room. Daniel drew the covers more firmly around himself, trying to not shiver too visibly. ”Please close the door. I don't want the heat to escape.”  
  
Alexander raised his eyebrows but closed the door without protesting. It had been a sunny August's evening but all the windows were bolted and a fire burned merrily in the fireplace as though it were midwinter.  
  
”Have you eaten today?”  
  
”As much as I've managed,” he replied hoarsely. His throat was unpleasantly sore, despite all the tea he had consumed. Alexander tutted, taking in the empty bread basket and the tea tray on the writing desk.  
  
”Have you been brewing your tea _here_?”  
  
”I've no desire to walk to the kitchen each time I need a cup.”  
  
”The tea leaves are starting to smell. You shouldn't have disposed of them in the wastepaper basket.”  
  
Daniel made a face. ”I'll take care of that once I'm better. I can't smell it anyway, my nose is too stuffy.”  
  
The baron sat next to him, eyeing him critically. He placed a hand on the Englishman's forehead. ”How long have you been feverish?”  
  
”I… four days, if I'm counting right.”  
  
Alexander frowned. ”Has it gone down at all?”  
  
”Don't think so.”  
  
The elder looked as though he wanted to say something more but Daniel was overcome with a coughing fit, which took its time to subside. Alexander kept rubbing his back until he could breathe properly again, and the brunette managed a wheezy 'thank you' as he slumped back down on the bed.  
  
”You fell ill after I'd taken your blood again,” the baron murmured. He was staring at the fire with unfocused eyes.  
  
”What do you mean 'again'?”  
  
”Don't try to be smart with me. It is not the first time your body has reacted to blood loss in this manner.”  
  
”I don't think it's anything to worry about,” Daniel said. The baron looked at him sternly, then shook his head but spoke no more.  
  
Daniel closed his eyes and in no time at all found himself drifting off to the quiet crackling and popping of the logs in the fireplace. It was oddly relaxing to simply lie there, concentrating on nothing but his breathing. He didn't know how long he'd been out of it, but when he woke with a start later, the moon had climbed high on the sky and was shining straight into the bedroom. To his astonishment Alexander was still there, sitting on a chair by his bedside. A book lay open on his lap.  
  
”Alexander?”  
  
The baron looked up, surprised. ”You're awake already?”  
  
”How long was I out of it?”  
  
”An hour or two at best.”  
  
Daniel watched him as he returned to his reading. He was feeling as light-headed as ever and his head pounded unpleasantly, but there was a certain pleasure in having company at last. The longer he watched the baron the more he could feel his mouth twitching, and he couldn't stop himself from grinning broadly.  
  
It wasn't too long until Alexander noticed and looked up again. ”Is there something amusing?”  
  
”I finally got my wish,” Daniel mused, still smiling.  
  
”What do you mean?”  
  
”I did say I'd like you to stay the other night, after you'd taken my blood. And now you're here.”  
  
Alexander could only stare at him. The look of exasperation on his face was so painfully familiar that Daniel started laughing, collapsing against the headboard of his bed.  
  
”Now, really,” the baron scoffed. Daniel laughed harder, unable to stop until his eyes were watering. Alexander only sighed in response but he remained on his seat nevertheless, poring over his book until the younger man had laughed his share. He lay on the bed, still chuckling quietly as he wiped his eyes with a sleeve.  
  
”Are you quite finished?”  
  
”Yes, sir,” he answered gleefully. He wondered if his temperature was going up; everything seemed ten times funnier than usual, as though he were really tipsy.  
  
”You should really try to get some rest.”  
  
”Perhaps,” he agreed. He looked at the baron thoughtfully. ”Thank you.”  
  
”For what?”  
  
”For granting my wish. It was kind of you to keep me company.”  
  
This time Alexander returned his smile. ”I thought it would be the best way to keep you from doing anything stupid.”  
  
”Like what?”  
  
”Like overexerting yourself, which you have an unfortunate tendency of doing.”  
  
”Your concern is touching, but quite unnecessary,” Daniel said. ”I wouldn't leave the bed in this condition.”  
  
”I don't trust you to know what's best for you,” the elder replied, shooting him a stern look over his book.  
  
The Englishman grimaced, but an indescribable feeling of warmth was spreading throughout his body at Alexander's words. He reached out and grabbed the baron's sleeve between his thumb and index finger. He tugged lightly at the soft fabric.  
  
”Thanks for worrying about me,” he said quietly.  
  
Alexander took his hand, giving it a squeeze. ”One of us has to, at least.”  
  
The brunette looked away, watching the fire instead. A hot flush had spread to his face, quite unrelated to the fever. He couldn't help thinking back on the night in the garden and what the baron had spoken to him then. The urgency in his voice. The same look of concern. Daniel exhaled slowly, the realisation sinking in.  
  
_How could I ever claim that he doesn't care?_ he thought silently. _He has cared about me this whole time._ The thought in itself was overwhelming.  
  
Daniel bit his lip, stealing a quick glance at the baron from the corner of his eye. Just looking at him was enough to temper a wave of desire in him, desire and… what? The question left him breathless. How many times had Alexander been careful to ask for his permission before so much as taking a drop of his blood? How many times had he held him in his arms like a lover, kissing his tender wounds and cradling him to sleep? His eyes prickled with sudden heat and he hastily blinked it away.  
  
_I love him_. _Oh, God, I'm in love with him.  
  
_ Alexander was still holding his hand even as he read, and the brunette couldn't resist squeezing his hand briefly. The baron shot him a quick glance before turning back to his reading, smiling slightly. Daniel withdrew his hand, but the warmth of the elder's touch seemed to linger in his fingers for much longer.

_I love him,_ he repeated in his head. It seemed so obvious, now, all of a sudden, that he could't believe it had taken him this long to realise.  
  
”Are you alright?”  
  
Alexander was looking at him curiously. Daniel tried not to falter underneath his stare, but there was nothing he could do to stop himself from blushing.  
  
”Yes,” he heard himself say hastily. ”Just feeling a bit warm.”  
  
”It may be a good sign. Perhaps your fever is breaking.”  
  
”Perhaps,” he stammered. He sank as low on the bed as his pillows allowed, pulling the covers up to his chin. ”I think I'll try to sleep a bit more.”  
  
”You do that.”  
  
”Will you… will you stay here? Until I'm asleep?”  
  
Alexander smiled. ”Until daybreak, if you wish.”  
  
He wanted to say it wasn't necessary, that he wasn't a child, but he couldn't bring himself to it.  
  
”I'd like that, I think.”  


* * *

_  
_ Overall it took him nearly a week until he was back on his feet, and several days longer before he dared to risk physical labour. Getting out of the bedroom was nothing short of a blessing; Daniel was certain he had shed couple of pounds simply sweating. When his coughing fits subsided and his throat ached no longer, Daniel celebrated by preparing larger meals than usual, as though making up for lost time. Days of nothing but gruel and bread had left him famished, and he was forced to bind the all too loose waistband of his trousers with a belt until he regained some weight.  
  
He was used to his weight fluctuating, but it had still been something of a shock to look in the mirror after his recovery. The bite that Alexander had left on his neck was large and it had turned an ugly yellowish green colour. He ran his fingers over the bruise gingerly and winced. It was still sore, much moreso than any of the previous ones. The baron had kept him company every evening until he was sure the brunette was recovering, and though he hadn't said anything about it, Daniel had often felt his eyes on the bite mark. He knew the elder was worrying about the same thing as he was – that his body healed slower and slower every time he fell ill these days. Daniel couldn't escape the creeping suspicion that his physique wasn't responding kindly to blood loss, and he avoided being cooped up in his quarters as much as possible lest he start overthinking it.  
  
He returned to the garden with whole-hearted anticipation. The summer air was still warm but he loved the soft breeze against his skin, and the grounds were flourishing so that it was highly enjoyable to simply walk around the yard and drink in the results of his work. The tulips had wilted but their places had been taken by an assortment of flowering plants in a rainbow of colours, and for once the castle looked less forlorn than usual. There wasn't much Daniel alone could have done to restore it to its former glory but in the evening sunlight it looked strangely regal, and he could almost picture what Brennenburg might have been like on its early days before it succumbed to decay and isolation.  
  
It was only late in the evening that Daniel walked to the secluded little corner by the edge of the woods and laid his hand on the bark of the gnarly old apple tree. He gazed up at its mossy branches, eyes wide with joy.  
  
”You do bear fruit,” he said, amazed. And true enough, the topmost branches of the tree had produced small, green apples, swaying gently in the breeze. Daniel turned around and rushed towards the storage. When he came back he was holding a small basket. He placed it on the ground, then rolled up his sleeves and started climbing.  
  
He had been sitting up in the tree only for some minutes when someone called for him.  
  
”Daniel!”  
  
Daniel looked around. The baron had emerged from the castle and stood some twenty feet away, watching him with his arms crossed.  
  
”Hey,” he said, waving his hand. Alexander strode closer.  
  
”What are you doing up there?”  
  
”Gathering apples.”  
  
”The trees still produce fruit?”  
  
Daniel smirked and tossed him one of the green fruit. The elder caught it, his movement so fast, so smooth that Daniel barely saw him move. Alexander turned it around in his hand, frowning slightly.  
  
”They aren't quite ripe yet.”  
  
”I don't mind,” Daniel said nonchalantly, plucking another one. ”The trees had been abandoned for so long that I wasn't sure how much I would be able to do for them. I'm happy they produced apples at all.”  
  
He bit into the apple, chewing slowly. Alexander was right; the taste was that of an unripened fruit, slightly too sour and bitter and there wasn't much to eat, but to Daniel it tasted better than any other apple he'd ever had. Juice trickled down his chin and he wiped it off before reaching for another apple.  
  
”Watch out,” he told Alexander. He plucked more fruit, dropping them to the ground one by one, and the baron watched him with the amused air of one witnessing a child at play. Eventually the younger man jumped down and gathered up his bounty in the basket, face shining with enthusiasm.  
  
”What are you going to do with them?” the baron asked. Daniel shrugged.  
  
”Eat, I suppose. I don't know yet.” He turned towards the garden. ”I need to water the roses.”  
  
The elder nodded, following him across the lawn. Of all the flowers in the grounds, he was the most pleased with the roses. They had blossomed in a variety of colours, tall and proud, their stems almost reaching up to his chest. He stopped in front of a patch of salmon pink roses, put down the basket and carefully inspected the blossoms. After a while he nodded, seeming satisfied.  
  
”These ones are my favourites,” Daniel said suddenly, picking up his basket again. ”It's a lovely colour.”  
  
Alexander seemed surprised. ”As it happens, they were my wife's favourites as well.”  
  
”I assumed as much. The resemblance to the roses in her portrait was too striking to be a coincidence.”  
  
They walked on quietly. By the wall there stood an old well and a collection of old, slightly rusted watering cans. Daniel gave the apple basket to Alexander, lifted the lid of the well and turned the crank until there was the tell-tale splash of the bucket hitting water. Slowly, he brought the bucket back up and filled one of the watering cans with water.  
  
”Normally one should water roses during the day,” Alexander pointed out.  
  
”I know, but the heat makes my head swim. I've tried to avoid exhausting myself since… well...”  
  
He didn't meet the baron's eye, but knew he'd understood his meaning.

”Perhaps that's for the best.”  
  
They moved slowly between the flower beds as Daniel watered each bush, occasionally going back to the well for more water. Alexander spun around, drinking in the scenery as though appreciating it fully for the first time. Carefully he brought one of the blossoms close to his face, its petals wine red and lovely, and inhaled slowly. He let out a small sound of contentment. Daniel looked at him from the corner of his eye.  
  
”Do you like them?”  
  
”Yes,” the baron muttered, letting go of the stem. ”You have turned this garden into a sea of flowers.”  
  
”You are too kind, my good baron.”  
  
”Not at all. My property hasn't looked like this since I was a much younger man.”  
  
”Since you were mortal, you mean?”  
  
The baron chuckled, smiling slightly. ”Since I was mortal, yes.”  
  
Daniel turned around to the bush behind them, pouring water generously over the dry soil. He could feel the elder's eyes on him, watching his every move.  
  
”Daniel,” the baron finally said.  
  
”Yes?”  
  
”I have received an answer from the duke Hohenzollern.”  
  
”When? I haven't seen the outrider recently.”  
  
”He delivered the duke's reply while you were ill. I have been summoned to him.”  
  
Daniel straightened, still holding the watering can. ”When are we going?”  
  
He wasn't sure if the summons was only extended to Alexander but he had already made up his mind; he would come along, even at the risk of breaking the etiquette. Alexander's expression told him he'd understood Daniel's meaning but he offered no protest.  
  
”In two weeks, when the duke returns to his estate for winter.”  
  
”That's very sudden,” Daniel said, taken aback.  
  
Alexander merely nodded, his eyes serious.  
  
”It will be different this time, won't it?” the Englishman asked. His gaze was distant, fixed on the darkening woods beyond. ”We'll have to be more careful now, won't we?”  
  
Alexander didn't answer. He closed the distance between them silently and brushed a lock of hair behind the brunette's ear, as though as an afterthought. The vampyre's fingers lingered against his skin only for moments, but it was enough to make his heart skip a beat. It was impossible not to be aware of how close they stood, and Daniel found he couldn't look Alexander in the eye without colour rising to his face.  
  
”Take care of your roses and don't let your thoughts linger too much on the duke. There may come a time when I need you to act on my behalf, Daniel – perhaps even sooner than we believe –, and the more natural, the more relaxed you act, the better.”  
  
”Anything you need from me,” Daniel whispered in a strangled voice. ”Anything, and I'll see it through.”  
  
Alexander touched his cheek once more, his warmth lingering there just a little longer than before. ”I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, he finally got there, guys. He finally put two and two together, after all this time. Sometimes I think to myself, "man, Daniel is so dense!" but truth to be told I tend to be like this too, when it comes to love... it takes a while to even consider the possibility and then accept it. My sweet summer child, you are growing up so fast.
> 
> Ironically, I've been sick with a very persistent cold just like Daniel, though mine wasn't caused by blood loss and lasted nearly two weeks - which is why this chapter is late. ^^; I left on a holiday and got sick immediately, as usual. Sigh.
> 
> I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! Thank you so much for all the kudos, comments and bookmarks, and don't forget to let me know what you thought about the chapter! <3 I'm hoping to get the next one out during the weekend/early next week since I'm returning from my holiday and can write more regularly. Toodles, and stay awesome!


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Bless me, undress me  
> Pick your prey in a wicked way  
> God, I must confess  
> I do envy the sinners'
> 
> Nightwish – She Is My Sin

_September 1841_

The summer faded into an early autumn with such haste that Daniel barely noticed it. It felt as though he'd closed his eyes once and it was gone; the mornings were still light and early, but the worst of the heat was gone now. Brisk winds rolled over the castle grounds and while the grass was still green and his flowers in full bloom, he knew autumn would show itself soon enough.

Alexander spoke very little, his mood turned sullen. The Englishman wasn't sure if it was just his imagination but once or twice during the early hours of morning he thought he saw a dark shadow standing at the end of his bed, watching him. The figure was right there, at the edge of sleep and waking, and whenever Daniel blinked or tried to focus his sleepy eyes the shadow was already gone as though it had never been there.  
  
He was certain, however, that the baron was keeping a close eye on him. Daniel didn't mention it, but it was obvious the older man preferred to keep him where he could see him. Though Daniel had been quite sure there was nothing more to work on in the library's many side chambers, Alexander seemed to find something every few days that required his urgent attention. He never gave direct commands; whenever he had a chore in mind he would drop it vaguely, as though merely seeking the other man's opinion.

“Do you think my writing desk could use a new layer of lacquer?”  
  
“So much ash in the fireplace poses quite a risk in an old building such as this. Perhaps it should be emptied.”  
  
“My, my, all the moisture has started ruining the wallpaper in the parlour. I should commission some men from the village for repairs.”  
  
Daniel listened to his monologues with amused exasperation before fetching his tools and setting to work, wherever the baron happened to find something of concern. He rather suspected it wasn't entirely beyond Alexander to simply tie him up in the cellar to keep him safe, and Daniel wasn't too keen on the idea of spending the days leading up to their meeting with the duke in the dungeon. He regretted having less time to spend in the garden, but it seemed to soothe the baron's worries to have him nearby whenever possible.  


* * *

  
There was less than a week to go to the banquet when Alexander approached him in the library. He had decided, just the day before, that for reasons best known to himself he wanted his books sorted by the printing year instead of alphabetically, and Daniel had been grumbling the entire day while attempting to make sense of his collection.  
  
“I'm quite busy, as you may have noticed,” he replied tad acidly when the baron called his name.  
  
“I can see that,” Alexander said calmly.  
  
“Please don't tell me you've changed your mind about the order.”  
  
“Not at all. I simply wish to borrow you for a moment.”  
  
Daniel peered at him over his shoulder, frowning. “What is it?”  
  
“We need to start getting ready for the banquet.”  
  
“Surely it's too early for that. We still have five whole days.”  
  
“Perhaps, but a certain matter cannot wait.” Alexander held up his hand so that the brunette could see what he was holding. It was a pair of scissors. “You need a haircut before I can allow you in the duke's estate again.”  
  
Daniel flushed up to his hairline. He knew his hair had been getting long, hanging just past his shoulders now, but the idea of visiting the town for a trim had seemed much too laborious. He wanted to protest but couldn't think of anything adequate to say and so he got up grudgingly, letting the baron lead him out of the library.  
  
“Where are we going?” he muttered.  
  
“My quarters.”  
  
Alexander led him to a tiny parlour right beside his bedroom. The room was windowless, much like the other rooms in the baron's quarters, but it looked rather different from the rest of the castle. The walls were paneled with dark wood and the room had no other furniture apart from a bookcase, two chairs and a table with a mirror resting on top. The mirror was made with a rough wooden frame, with wooden supports on the sides for tilting, setting it apart from the elegant Rococo mirrors found elsewhere in the castle. There was no fireplace; the only source of light seemed to be a candlestick standing on top of the bookcase. Daniel sat down on one of the chairs, taking in the gloomy room.  
  
“What do you think?” Alexander asked, as though reading his thoughts.  
  
“It's nothing like the rest of Brennenburg,” he said. “It's almost as if it doesn't _belong_.”  
  
“It doesn't,” the elder admitted. “This room was built much later than the rest of the castle. When I had the servants' quarters renovated for my use I required a private study by my bedroom, and I commissioned this room to be built.”  
  
“Doesn't really look like a study to me.”  
  
“I moved my work back to the library eventually, as I grew more confident with my condition.” He placed the scissors on the table. “The mirror was one of my wife's. I thought it would prove easier to preserve should I keep it here.”  
  
The wooden supports had cracked in several places, Daniel noted, a sure sign of decades and decades of exposure to moisture. The parlour was dry and warm, not at all likely to perpetrate such damage, and the brunette guessed Alexander hadn't thought of saving the late baroness' belongings until years after her passing.  
  
Alexander had him seated directly in front of the mirror, ordering him to straighten his back and keep his head still while he conjured combs and brushes from the drawers. It was bizarre to see his hair moving as though on its own, Daniel thought; Alexander's hands were busy arranging his parting and dealing his hair into sections, but all Daniel saw in the mirror was his own reflection.  
  
“My, it really has gotten quite long, hasn't it?”  
  
Daniel grimaced. “The last time I visited a barber was in London, before travelling here.”  
  
The baron sighed and got to work quietly, starting at the back of his head. Daniel stared at his reflection, wondering if the elder knew what he was doing. It went against his sense of propriety to sit there as his employer improved his looks but he couldn't think of any way to convey this to Alexander without offending him.  
  
Alexander's hands brushed against the nape of his neck every now and then as he worked, causing the brunette to squirm in his seat. Something about his touch felt out of place; a moment later he realised what it was.  
  
“You have been feeding recently,” he pointed out. Alexander hummed quietly, not pausing in his work. He ran his fingers across a sliver of bared skin again, and Daniel was sure it was on purpose.   
  
“Not that it bothers me,” he rushed to say. It sounded defensive even to his own ears, and he wasn't at all surprised that the baron laughed in response.  
  
“Yes, it does. I know that it does; you've made your feelings quite understood in this matter.”  
  
Daniel scowled. “Isn't it terribly risky to venture out to hunt right now?”  
  
“I've only fed on animals as of late,” the baron replied. “Their blood isn't as potent as human blood but it will suffice.”  
  
“But why now? I mean to say, why not take my blood if you need it? It has been quite some time now, I'm sure my body has fully recovered.”  
  
“I know,” the elder said. He separated small sections of hair on each side of his face for bangs, letting them hang there freely as he pulled the rest of his hair back. He quickly tied up the rest into a loose ponytail to keep it out of the way. “But I wish to be at the very peak of my strength for our journey, and I cannot risk taking as much blood from you as I truly need. We will be gone for a few days.”  
  
“Days?” Daniel asked, startled. He hadn't discussed the details of the duke's summons with the baron, expecting it to be much the same as before.  
  
“We will depart late on Thursday evening and stay overnight in Altstadt. The banquet takes place the next evening.”  
  
“Will it be safe for you? I mean,” the brunette hesitated. “There's the risk of daylight… and how will you sleep?”  
  
“I can sleep adequately in the inn as long as we don't let any sunlight in. There is no need for you to worry about it.”  
  
They lapsed into silence as Alexander shortened his bangs until they reached an inch or two below his chin. Then he untied the ponytail and little by little worked on the rest of his hair, the only sounds in the room being the quiet clicking of scissors and the baron's slow, content humming. Daniel wasn't entirely happy with his answers – he would have much preferred if the elder explained his plans instead of telling him to just shrug it off and quit worrying. Worry was a strange thing, Daniel knew, for it seldom went away with simple reassurances. Hazel had often told him not to worry about her or her condition, and it had been entirely useless. He'd known very well that no amount of _I'm okay_ s or _don't worry about it_ s fixed the reason for his concern, and it had just made him twitchy.  
  
He started when Alexander's hand suddenly cupped his cheek, stroking it softly with his thumb.  
  
“That frown will soon become permanent if you keep making that face,” the baron said.  
  
“I'm not frowning.”  
  
The Englishman could almost hear him roll his eyes.  
  
“You always frown when you're concerned about something.”  
  
“How do you know I'm concerned?”  
  
“My dear friend,” the baron said with a laugh. “Between the two of us you are the one with a reflection. I can see you in the mirror.”  
  
“You are impossible,” Daniel sighed, slapping his hand away. “There'd be no reason for me to be concerned if you just were frank with me.”  
  
The elder brushed his hair once more, sorting out any tangles that had formed in there. He tied his hair into a ponytail once more, considerably shorter now. As little as Daniel cared or understood about appearances, he thought he did look smarter now; at least now it looked like his hair framed his features instead of making him look like there was a porcupine growing out of his head.  
  
Alexander rounded him, observing the outcome. A pleased smile rested on his lips, and Daniel was suddenly very aware of his insides doing some kind of an unruly dance.  
  
“Excellent,” the baron said approvingly. “It is a very good look on you.”  
  
Daniel swallowed, barely managing to mutter a feeble 'thanks'. Even without the vampyre's charm in effect he still found himself locked in place, painfully aware of himself as long as Alexander was looking at him. He couldn't quite tell if he wanted the baron to look away or not.  
  
“Sometimes you remind me them,” Alexander said with a sigh.  
  
“Remind you of whom?”  
  
Alexander didn't answer immediately. His eyes were downcast and glazed over, as though he were lost in reverie. He sighed again. “Once, there were two men who discovered the truth about me. Much like you, they, too, were intrigued rather than alarmed by my condition and sought my company. We became friends. For the first time after my turning, I considered myself happy.”  
  
Daniel watched him, his mouth slightly open, afraid to interrupt him. Alexander closed his eyes, as though it was costing him an effort to keep talking.  
  
“Weyer was the first one of them to approach the subject of turning. He was a learned man, Daniel, with a truly exceptional mind. His ideas were enthralling; captivating, even. I found myself inexplicably drawn to him. Perhaps that is why I found myself sharing with him some of the deepest secrets of my kind, against my better knowledge.” His hands balled into fists, knuckles going white. “It was utter foolishness on my part to not see how easily he would be tempted.”  
  
“What happened?” Daniel asked in a hushed voice.  
  
“He was an alchemist, an absolutely brilliant one. The concept of immortality haunted him, and in me he saw a possibility, an alternative to the Philosopher's Stone that alchemy has attempted to produce for centuries. He asked to be turned.”  
  
“ _What?_ ”  
  
“Agrippa, his teacher, was hesitant, much like I was. I've told you there are great many things that can go wrong with the turning, and I was unwilling to risk Weyer's life for it. He wasn't easily swayed, however, and some years later he returned to Brennenburg. I could sense his approach as soon as he'd entered the woods – he had sought out another vampyre, somewhere, and been turned.”  
  
Daniel inhaled sharply, leaning towards the elder almost instinctively. “You can tell when there's another one of your kind nearby?”  
  
Alexander nodded. “It's as if our blood sings to one another, calling us together. I knew him, yet I did not. Our senses become strangely heightened after turning, magnified into perfection, and it had done nothing to quell his desire for knowledge. I wanted to be furious with him, but I couldn't hide my pleasure; my closest friend was now as I was, and I allowed myself to think I would never be lonely again.”  
  
“What of the other man? Agrippa?”  
  
“He had remained with me during Weyer's absence. He, too, was a learned man, much calmer than his apprentice. His presence was soothing to me after all the years I'd spent loathing my existence. He scolded Weyer's recklessness upon his return, but we were both much too grateful that he was with us again to stay properly angry with him for long.”  
  
“But you said one of them died, didn't you?”  
  
The baron nodded again. He suddenly seemed paler and wearier than ever.  
  
“Weyer wanted Agrippa to become one of us. It went wrong.” His hands shook visibly. “I killed him.”  
  
Alexander opened and closed his mouth again several times, attempting to continue his story, but no more words seemed to come to him. Finally, he let out a shuddering sigh, his shoulders dropping in defeat. He shook his head wearily. “I'm sorry, Daniel. I cannot—“  
  
“You don't have to say more if you're not ready.” And on an impulse he reached out, taking Alexander's hands in his own.  
  
“Perhaps,” the elder murmured, giving his hands a squeeze before pulling away. “Let us return to the library. We are quite done here.”  
  
The usual spring was gone from Alexander's steps as they made their way down the corridor. Daniel couldn't help shooting worried glances at him, but the baron did not look back at him, his expression strangely blank.  
  
“Alexander,” the brunette said, hesitation evident in his voice. “Why did you tell me all that?”  
  
“Because...” The elder trailed off, apparently at a loss for words once more. He sighed again.  
  
“Yes?”  
  
“I believe you need to know the risks involved, should we continue down this path.” He came to a stand still in front of the tall windows of the library hall, gazing out into the dark grounds. Only the pale light of the crescent moon lit the skies, and it seemed to rob Alexander of all colour as he basked in its light. “You need to know what could come out of this, Daniel. If we are to stay like this, I cannot keep you in the dark forever.”  
  
Slowly, Daniel crept behind him, placing his hand on the elder's shoulder. After a while Alexander placed his hand over the younger man's, simply holding it there as though drawing comfort from the touch.  
  
“Thank you for telling me,” the brunette said quietly. “I'll be in the office if you need me.”  
  
His mind was buzzing with questions but he firmly pushed them away, unwilling to question Alexander further. He worked in the office until pale morning light permeated the sky, driving the stars into hiding, but Alexander never joined him that night.  


* * *

  
The baron had conjured a handsome leather suitcase, large enough for two people's things. It lay open on the bed when Daniel sought him in his quarters couple of nights later.  
  
“Pardon the intrusion,” he said, giving the door a light knock before he waltzed in. Alexander stood rummaging his wardrobe and didn't look up when the other man entered.  
  
“Not at all, Daniel. What is it?”  
  
Daniel clasped his hands together behind his back, balancing awkwardly on the spot. He hadn't seen the baron since he'd given him the trim. “Nothing in particular. I simply thought perhaps we should get ready for our departure tomorrow.”  
  
“Quite right,” Alexander mused. “We'll be gone a few days but there is no need to bring much with us. If you bring your better clothes here we can simply pack them with mine. Wear something unobtrusive tomorrow.”  
  
The brunette nodded and left. He returned ten minutes later with the outfit the baron had had commissioned for him and carefully folded each item in the suitcase.  
  
“I wonder whatever become of my poor hat,” he muttered. He had a vague recollection of taking it off to dance with the lady Margaret, but no memory whatsoever of what had happened to it afterwards.  
  
“It is perfectly fine for you to attend the banquet without one,” Alexander replied vaguely. He was still standing in front of the wardrobe, indecisively flitting between this outfit and that. Daniel turned around to look at him, amused.  
  
“Are you having trouble choosing?”  
  
The baron shot him an irritable glance. “A man dresses to impress, Daniel. The more important the occasion, the more his choices matter.”  
  
“I see,” he said with a smile. “And what sort of an impression would you like to make?”  
  
“Therein lies the problem. What indeed?”  
  
Daniel made a noncommittal noise, walking next to him. He saw the black-and-gold waistcoat the baron had worn before, an outfit in royal blue, browns and burgundies, and even a coat in eye-watering yellow. Finally his eyes fell upon a waistcoat of deep carmine. He pulled it out of the wardrobe carefully.  
  
“This one, I think,” he said, handing it to Alexander. The elder took it, an eyebrow raised. “And let's see, you'll need something matching to wear over it.”  
  
He reached into the wardrobe again, hovering between several overcoats until deciding on one that had embroideries on the front. It was such an intense red that it made him think of the sky right before sunset, clouds painted with a red so deep that they seemed to be bleeding. He pulled out the coat, holding it out in front Alexander, measuring the effect with narrowed eyes.  
  
“That should work just fine,” he said, nodding.  
  
“It's quite a bold statement,” Alexander said, frowning.  
  
“And aren't you a bold man? Come on, try them on.”  
  
The baron shot him one more skeptical look but made no effort to protest. He shed his waistcoat and allowed Daniel to help him in his chosen garments. Even in the dim light of his bedroom the effect was striking and Daniel inhaled sharply. It looked so much like the outfit from his nightmares that he could only stare for a while, but he could tell immediately that he'd made a good choice. Dressed like this Alexander seemed to radiate power. If he sought to sway the duke, this would do it.  
  
“The bloody baron,” Daniel whispered, still staring at him. He couldn't quite keep the admiration out of his voice. Alexander smirked.  
  
“I am sure some people would agree with that name.”  
  
Daniel gestured helplessly at him. He felt strangely breathless. “You _must_ wear that. You look stunning.”  
  
“If you so insist.”  
  
Looking at him was overwhelming; his lips pulled back as he grinned even wider, revealing teeth. Daniel felt like the charm had hit him at full force again and robbed him off his senses. His head was spinning, and for one wild moment he envisioned throwing Alexander on the bed, kissing him rotten and telling him exactly how he made him feel. Then the baron turned back towards the wardrobe, breaking the connection, and Daniel shook himself mentally.  
  
_Stop that,_ he told himself irritably. _Now is not the time for daydreaming._  
  
They were going to face the duke in just a few days; it was as good as entering the lair of a known enemy. It was a disarming thought. He desperately longed to wrap his arms around the vampyre and touch him before it was too late, lest he lose the chance for ever. A small voice had awakened within him, wondering if they were walking into a trap, if they would come out of this alive, and it was taking every inch of self-control he had to shake it off. _It's just a banquet,_ he thought. _No matter what the duke suspects, he wouldn't dare act in his own domain, not with all the guests around. He wouldn't want to rouse any curiousity._  
  
It wasn't the most comforting idea, but it helped. Alexander still had his back to him and the brunette allowed himself just that one brief moment of longing, when the other man wasn't looking. If he could somehow ensure his safety, make sure the duke was too preoccupied to chase after him…  
  
_Could I do such a thing? I am no political mastermind nor learned in the matters of this country._ He sighed, quietly returning to the suitcase on the pretext of reorganising his garments. _If only I knew what to do.  
  
_

* * *

_  
_The night of their departure seemed to come before Daniel had had the time to turn around twice. With two hours to sunset he tidied up his quarters, though they wouldn't be gone for more than a few days, and pulled on his travelling clothes. It had gotten colder in the past days and he wrapped himself up in a long, woollen travelling cloak, hoping it would be enough to keep him warm on the road.  
  
He examined himself in the mirror, noticing with some dismay that the shadows underneath his eyes had gotten darker. It had been difficult to sleep properly as of late; he had been much too anxious to fall asleep easily, and when he finally slept his dreams were plagued by visions of that masquerade. At least there had been no severed heads this time, but he vaguely remembered the bull-masked figure of the duke watching him as he'd been pulled around by masked women. It did nothing to dispel his concerns.  
  
It wasn't still quite dark enough for them to leave, but waiting all alone in the caretaker's quarters was getting on Daniel's nerves. He paced around restlessly, soon coming to the realisation that he wouldn't be able to relax before it was time to go. He made sure all candles were properly extinguished and the caretaker's keys were returned to their own cabinet, the master key tucked safely underneath his clothes, and left the drawing room. It was still quite light out when he walked across the hallway towards the right wing, and in no time at all he found himself at the baron's door. He knocked once, uncertain whether Alexander would be awake at this hour or not, but the elder's voice answered within seconds.  
  
“Enter,” he called. Daniel pushed the door open and stepped in.  
  
His eyes fell first on the bed but it was already made, with only the leather suitcase lying on it. Alexander was once again standing by the wardrobe, its doors standing ajar.  
  
“You are up early,” Daniel noted.  
  
“I couldn't sleep very well.”  
  
He smiled sympathetically. “Neither did I.”  
  
The baron did seem more tired today, he admitted, or perhaps it was just the outfit he was wearing. The murky brown waistcoat seemed to drain his face of all colour, and the dim light of the candles made him look strangely washed out.  
  
Daniel sat on the bed, unsure what to do with himself. The baron pulled out coat after coat until finally deciding on a plain black one, returning the rest in the wardrobe.  
  
“It's about half an hour until sunset,” the brunette said, staring at the grandfather clock by the wardrobe.  
  
“I expect the carriage will be here soon,” Alexander replied, inclining his head. “Do you have everything you need?”  
  
“Yes. I doubt I'll need more than a change of clothes for such a short journey.”  
  
The elder closed the wardrobe with a snap and turned to face Daniel. He sat down next to him, examining him from head to toe with such intensity that he suddenly felt very self-conscious. Frowning, Alexander reached out and straightened the collar of his overcoat.  
  
“Are you sure you're wearing enough? That cloak isn't very thick,” he pointed out.  
  
“I'll be fine,” Daniel said, forcing a smile. His mouth felt drier than the desert, and he wished the baron wouldn't lean so close.  
  
“You can borrow one of mine if you wish.”  
  
“I'll be fine, I promise.”  
  
Alexander looked unconvinced but didn't press the subject further. It seemed only a heartbeat later that he stood up again and extracted a travelling cloak of his own from the suitcase.  
  
“Can you help me put this on?” he asked, holding the cloak out to Daniel.  
  
The younger man blinked, surprised, but sprang to his feet and took the cloak without a word. He draped it over the elder's shoulders, fastening it carefully. The material was thicker and much finer than that of his own cloak; it felt pleasantly soft underneath his hands. He had a fleeting memory of Alexander dressed just like this once before, tall and imposing and draped in black as he'd left the castle many months previously in the dead of winter. Daniel started as thought struck and wrapped an arm around the baron's shoulders, leaning against him. The baron let out a noise of surprise.  
  
“Daniel?”  
  
“When you left like this last winter, I was afraid you were never coming back,” he whispered, face buried in the soft wool. “I didn't even know how afraid I was until much later.”  
  
“But you are coming with me this time,” Alexander said, confused. He tried to pull away but Daniel only gripped him tighter. The baron could feel how his arm shook.  
  
“Sometimes, it got so quiet that I felt like the only living person in the world, and suddenly I couldn't bear the idea of being left alone in here any more. I thought I was going mad. Then you returned and nothing was the same as it had been and I was scared, but I was also glad that I wasn't alone any longer.” He swallowed, trying to shake off the lump in his throat. “I don't want to be left alone in here again. Not ever.”  
  
“Slow down, Daniel. I'm not sure I understand—“  
  
Daniel shook his head, still refusing to let go of him. This close he felt so substantial, so painfully real that the thought of losing him became nigh unbearable.  
  
“Wherever you go, I will follow. Just don't leave me alone again.”  
  
“What brought this on?” the baron asked, sounding slightly alarmed.  
  
“Alexander, I… I...”  
  
Daniel could feel the words forming in his mouth, ready to spill from the tip of his tongue, but he couldn't do it. This close he could feel the other man's warmth even through his clothes, feel the familiar scent of his hair. All of it had become so dear to him; too dear to risk losing it. If he lost Alexander as he'd lost Hazel, he knew he would go mad.  
  
“Daniel? Are you alright?”  
  
Just then, there was the sound of a door being slammed open, and a voice called out from the main hall.  
  
“My Lord Baron? Are you in here?”  
  
Both of them started, and Daniel let go of the elder hastily. Before Alexander had the chance to react he'd grabbed the suitcase and made for the door. He gave the baron a furtive glance, trying not to meet his confused eyes.  
  
“I'll bear our luggage downstairs, sir,” he said quickly, stepping over the threshold. He found the driver waiting in the main hall, taking off his hat politely as he approached.  
  
“Good evening, sir.”  
  
“Good evening,” Daniel told him. “The baron will be here shortly. My most sincere apologies for making you wait.”  
  
“Not at all, good sir, not at all. We are ahead of schedule, anyway.” The driver put on his hat again and held out his hand. “Here, let me take your things.”  
  
Daniel waited at the foot of the stairs for the elder to arrive. In a few minutes he heard the door to the right wing being closed, and a moment later the elder was striding down the stairs, cloak billowing behind him. He gave the younger man a puzzled look but made no mention of what had just transpired.  
  
“It's time. Let us go, Daniel.”  
  
The brunette held out his arm. “Ready when you are, sir.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy, things will soon get quite intense! This chapter felt like a calm before the storm to me, personally. I'm so glad I finally get to unfold parts of Alexander's past, after all this waiting. It's something I've really been looking forward to.
> 
> I'm going back to my original schedule here, so updates will come once a week now unless something really dramatic happens. *knocks on wood* I'm really excited for what's coming with future chapters, guys! For now, however, I hope you enjoyed this particular chapter, remember to leave a comment if you're excited for where this is going. <3 We are slowly but surely nearing the finale, but there is still so very much to tell you all before that... We are nowhere near done yet, I promise you that much.
> 
> Next chapter will be up on Friday the 25th, so see you all then!


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'I know the way I feel for you  
> It's now or never  
> The more I love the more I'm afraid  
> That in your eyes I may not see forever'
> 
> Céline Dion – How Do You Keep the Music Playing

_September 1841  
  
_ The moon was high as they rode in the swaying carriage. The driver was going more slowly than usual, careful not to lead the horses astray on the treacherous road. This time Alexander had sat next to Daniel, shooting worried glances at the younger male. Daniel could see the question in his eyes, wondering what his earlier outburst had been all about.  
  
“We will come back, you know,” the baron said eventually, breaking the silence.  
  
Daniel nodded.  
  
“Is something the matter?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“You are lying,” Alexander said tersely. “You have been very subdued as of late.”  
  
“So?”  
  
The elder sighed in exasperated manner. “I wish you wouldn't do this. How am I to help you if you're not frank with me?”  
  
“I promise I'm fine. I've… I've just been thinking.”  
  
“About what?”  
  
Daniel took a deep breath, trying to clear his head. All his thoughts had been a confusing blur recently; it was hard to make sense of anything any more. “When I came to Brennenburg, I had lost everything that mattered to me. My sister was dead, and with her went the only connection I had to my family. My work exhausted me. I became distanced from my friends. It all just seemed meaningless after she was gone.”  
  
“I remember you told me about this before,” Alexander said. “How you wished to be with her again – to cease living yourself.”  
  
“That has changed. She's gone beyond my reach, and I must let her go. She has deserved that.” The Englishman leaned back in his seat, staring out of the window. The memory of Hazel was still there, like a heavy weight pressing against his heart, but it was no longer unbearable to carry. “I think I want to go on living instead, just a little longer. I'm not ready to part from this world yet.”  
  
“And you won't, Daniel. The duke cannot harm—“  
  
“That's not what I meant.” He placed a hand on the baron's thigh, feeling the other man start at the sudden touch. “I cannot bear the thought of losing you, too. I want to follow you every step of the way.”  
  
Slowly, Alexander laid his own hand on top of the youth's. When he spoke, he sounded hesitant. “What are you coming to?”  
  
“Turn me.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Please turn me. Make me into one of your kind.”  
  
“Have you lost your mind?” Alexander hissed.  
  
“Alexander, please hear me out—“  
  
He shoved the brunette's hand away. “You cannot be serious!”  
  
“Why won't you even consider it?”  
  
“You know perfectly well why!”  
  
“I know it's risky—“  
  
“If something went wrong, it would mean your death!”  
  
“I know the consequences. I wouldn't blame you for that if—“  
  
Alexander slammed his fist against the bench, making the brunette jump. He was breathing heavily, eyes ablaze with rage. “You have no idea what you're talking about!”  
  
“Why are you so angry?” Daniel asked, taken aback. He had instinctively leaned away from the elder, hands crossed over his chest as though the gesture might protect him.  
  
“You don't… You cannot possibly know...” Alexander shivered. He leaned forwards, face buried in his hands. His voice was strangled when he spoke again. “You cannot know how it feels to have someone you hold dear slip away from you like that. To feel his pulse fading, his skin growing cold… and when you dare look at him again, his eyes are glossed over and empty.” Alexander was shaking violently. “I could _hear_ his consciousness slipping away, Daniel. We shared the same blood for a moment and his mind was intertwined with mine until the moment it was extinguished forever. I will never forget it.”  
  
Daniel could only stare at him, a terrible pity welling in his chest. He could see the elder's shoulders shaking, and it felt like he was witnessing something private, indecent even, something Alexander would never have shared with him willingly.  
  
“I'm sorry,” he said hoarsely. He couldn't think of anything else to say. “I'm so sorry.”  
  
Alexander didn't answer.  


* * *

  
Getting to Altstadt was a relief; they hadn't exchanged a single word during the rest of the ride, and Daniel was only too glad when they reached the town inn. A servant took the suitcase and vanished upstairs, and Daniel offered the baron his arm again, slowly leading him after the servant.  
  
“Your room, lord Baron, sir,” the servant said, holding the door open for them. For such a small town inn the room was luxurious, simple but beautifully varnished with wooden furniture. The suitcase had already been carried inside, and a fire was burning in the fireplace.  
  
Alexander thanked him, slipping him a few coins, and the man bowed, delighted. As soon as he'd vanished back downstairs Alexander let go of Daniel's arm and entered the room, and the brunette followed suit. The air between them was tense, and he jumped when the baron spoke again.  
  
“Lock the door tonight,” he said. He was standing in front of the windows, his back towards Daniel.  
  
“Pardon?”  
  
“Keep the door locked. I heard the townspeople muttering unpleasantries as soon as we entered the inn. I doubt they're senseless enough to start anything in my presence, but you would be wise not to attract any unwanted attention.”  
  
Daniel nodded gravely. “Alright.”  
  
The baron pulled back the curtains and opened the window. He leaned out, apparently scanning the area.  
  
“What are you doing?”  
  
“I'm thirsty,” he told the Englishman. “I need to regain my strength for tomorrow.”  
  
“Please return before sunrise.”  
  
“There is no need to worry. I will be back on time.”  
  
And with that he'd climbed on the window sill and vanished into the night. Daniel had the fleeting suspicion he didn't need to feed as much as he wanted to be alone; the thought didn't make him feel any better.  
  
It turned out the baron had been right to advice him to keep the door locked. Some hours after he'd laid down to sleep he heard drunken yells coming from the staircase, and a couple of times someone hammered the door. “Send out your dog, baron! I'm not afraid of you!” someone shouted, attempting to open the door again. Daniel pretended not to hear him, knowing the man was likely too drunk to be able to break in.  
  
Someone else came running, footfalls thundering up the stairs. There was a great deal of scuffling, as though people were wrestling furiously. Then, another yell as someone tried to turn the knob. “Open, ye filthy cur!”  
  
“Get out! Get out this instant!”  
  
Daniel recognised the voice of the inn's matron and sunk back against his pillows in relief. They wouldn't dare go any further than banging at the door in her presence. Pieces of heated conversation still reached his ears but it was over quite quickly, and he heard the tell-tale sounds of a man being unceremoniously dragged downstairs. He heard the matron muttering to herself as she, too, returned downstairs.  
  
“To bother our guests so…”  
  
“Fret not,” another voice told her. “We'll apologise to the baron in the morrow.”  
  
Daniel slept rather poorly after that, but there were no more interruptions that night. When he came to, Alexander was sleeping on the bed next to his. The curtains were drawn tight to prevent any light from entering the room, the fire in the fireplace long since dead. Daniel locked the door after himself as he descended downstairs for breakfast.  


* * *

  
Daniel couldn't fight the sense of dread rising in his chest as their carriage clattered down the road towards the duke's mansion. He had never wanted to see this place again; the thought of coming face to face with the duke Hohenzollern was enough to make him feel sick to his stomach, and he made a mental note not to eat or drink anything while he was there.  
  
The baron had assumed an expressionless mask as they'd neared the mansion. He looked entirely unaffected, even bored, but Daniel suspected he was feeling almost as nervous as he was. They'd spoken very little the whole evening, and the longer the silence stretched on the more difficult it became to think of anything to say. Finally, they came to a halt in the garden, and their driver opened the carriage door for them.  
  
“I'll wait for your return, lord Baron, sir,” he said with courteous bow.  
  
“Thank you, Edgar.”  
  
“Shall we make our way back to Altstadt or directly to Brennenburg tonight?”  
  
“I cannot say just yet. We'll see how quickly our host tires of our company.”  
  
The driver bowed again and closed the door after them. Daniel fidgeted with the collar of his suit, but the baron slapped his hands away.  
  
“Stop that. It's supposed to be like that.”  
  
“It's itchy,” he muttered, scratching his neck.  
  
“Then let it be itchy. Let us go.”  
  
Alexander took him by the upper arm again, and they made their way up the wide steps slowly. As they neared the top the doors were thrown open and a pair of servants in spotless suits stood back to make way for them. Both of them bowed deeply.  
  
“Baron von Brennenburg,” one of them said graciously. “His Grace has been expecting you.”  
  
“How kind of him,” Alexander replied, his tone light. “It has been a long journey. Could we get some refreshments?”  
  
“Of course, lord Baron, sir. Please, follow me to the cloak room.”  
  
Daniel noted that they were clearly the first to arrive; the corridors weren't crowded this time and they were able to progress more swiftly. Servants and maids were rushing this way and that, bearing dishes and cutlery and carafes of wine, and the delicious smells of fresh bread and buttery sauces floated in from the kitchens. The servant took their cloaks and lead them down the hallway, towards the banquet hall that the brunette remembered all too well from their previous visit.  
  
“It is a lot more pleasant before the other guests have arrived,” Daniel said to the servant, imitating Alexander's nonchalant manner. “It is easier to appreciate the beauty of this mansion like this, with some privacy.”  
  
The servant laughed. “It is indeed, good sir. His Grace's parties are popular; I doubt you will get too many moments to sightsee like this, so enjoy it while it lasts.”  
  
“Oh, I intend to. His Grace has the most exquisite collection of antiques, as I remember, and I quite enjoy looking at them.”  
  
“His caretaker would no doubt be more than glad to tell you more about them. You may want to speak with him later, should he be available,” the servant said with a grin. “May I ask where you're from, sir?”  
  
“England, sir.”  
  
Alexander chuckled. “The accent gives it away, doesn't it?”  
  
“Just a little bit, lord Baron, sir.”  
  
The banquet hall stood empty still, apart from some servants attending to their tasks. They were led into one of the small parlours where Daniel and his youthful admirers had held their court last time, and their escort pulled out chairs for them. He exited with a polite 'just a moment' and returned not too long after with a tray holding wine glasses and a full carafe of white wine.  
  
“Wine, sir?” Daniel asked, turning to Alexander.  
  
“Thank you, Daniel.”  
  
He poured them both a generous amount, passing one of the glasses to the baron. He sniffed the wine with apparent distaste, but took a sip nevertheless.

“Can you drink that?” the younger man whispered, leaning towards him.  
  
“I can pretend to,” he replied shortly. “Incidentally, you should probably watch your liquor this time.”  
  
Daniel looked away, his face rather warm.  
  
Perhaps five minutes later they heard the staccato of fast footsteps coming closer, and the duke himself entered the parlour. Both of them rose to their feet, bowing deeply.  
  
“Your Grace,” Alexander said reverently. The duke took his extended hand and shook it, nodding at the baron in greeting. He shook hands with Daniel, too, albeit much more briefly.  
  
“Baron von Brennenburg,” he replied. “To what do I owe this rare pleasure?”  
  
Alexander glanced at the door, eyebrows raised. “Perhaps we should close the door, your Grace. I have a matter of great concern to discuss with you.”  
  
“Surely it could have waited until the gathering of the Order in December?”  
  
“I assure you, your Grace, that it could not.”  
  
The duke nodded, closing the door after himself. He sat down, gesturing at them to follow his example.  
  
“Would you like some wine, your Grace?” Daniel asked politely before seating himself.  
  
“Perhaps just a little.” He glanced at the brunette, and an amused smirk spread to his lips. “He has quite an accent, doesn't he? Personally, I wouldn't employ a foreigner, my good baron; can't be too trusting with them.”  
  
Daniel felt a hot flush of anger spreading to his cheeks but he said nothing, pouring the duke a glass before sitting down next to the baron.  
  
“Oh, I assure you, he has been nothing short of trustworthy in my service, your Grace,” Alexander replied pleasantly, though Daniel thought he saw the elder's eyes narrow slightly.  
  
“If you say so, baron,” the duke shrugged, lifting his glass. “Do keep an eye on him, though.”  
  
“Of course, your Grace.”  
  
“So,” the duke said, crossing his hands on the table. He was dressed in a shimmering black coat full of gold and silver embroideries, and Daniel was horribly reminded of the looming figure of the ox-faced man in his dreams. “What is it that you wished to convey to me so urgently, baron Alexander?”  
  
Alexander's expression had lost its pleasant quality, his eyes sharp and cunning once again. He sounded business-like when he spoke. “There have been several worrisome incidents on my lands that I wish to bring to your attention, your Grace. It has come to my knowledge, thanks to the information provided by the outrider and his connections, that there are continued disappearances in the lands surrounding Brennenburg. These incidents are starting to draw attention from the public and have roused a generous amount of concern among the common citizens.”  
  
The duke raised his eyebrows, his expression impassive. “Is that so? I haven't heard anything of that sort myself.”  
  
“I assure you, it is an issue of the gravest sort. It is starting to fuel rumours in the area; due to the hilly landscape surrounding Brennenburg travellers have been reported missing regularly in the past few years, and the locals are starting to believe there could be otherworldly reasons behind it.” The baron made a skeptical face, his tone scathing enough to tell what he thought of such talk, and the duke smirked.  
  
“The common man is easily swayed by superstitions, baron. It is an unfortunate habit that the higher classes should discourage as much as possible.”  
  
“You are very correct, your Grace.” He pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket and slid it across the table to the duke. “This is the list of disappearances from the past two years, as reported by the outrider in town. Most of these people have not been found, alive or dead.”  
  
The duke took the paper and opened it. His eyes slowly scanned the paper name by name. “Quite unfortunate,” he muttered. “You haven't been able to find out who all these missing travellers are?”  
  
Alexander shook his head. “Some never left a name with the local inn and thus we have no records of them. There was a case a few months ago whom we suspect has fallen off a cliff but whose corpse hasn't been found. We are waiting to see if anyone will come looking for him and shed some light on his identity.”  
  
Daniel thought he saw the duke's eyes narrow ever so slightly. “I see.”  
  
“You remember that one personally, don't you, Daniel?” Alexander said, turning to the brunette. “What was it that had happened again?”  
  
“A riderless horse showed up on the castle grounds, your Grace,” Daniel told the duke. “I rode to town and roused the outrider and his men. They informed me a man had been staying at the inn, a man who'd left the day before but had never returned to collect his belongings. We searched the surrounding woods for several days but found no trace of him.”  
  
The duke said nothing for a while. He stuffed the paper in his breast pocket and looked at Alexander inquiringly.  
  
“What do you suggest we should do, baron?”  
  
“We've long since tried to encourage travellers to the area to employ the services of the outrider and the local guides, but to no avail.”  
  
“Perhaps something more stern than mere encouragement is needed?”  
  
“It may very well be so, your Grace,” Alexander said. He lifted the wine glass to his lips and pretended to drink. “May I suggest we station the sheriff in Altstadt and grant him permission to take over the search? The village is the most common place for travellers to stop by as they traverse the area. It might be a good idea to make sure we, ah, keep a watchful eye on outsiders, for their _own_ good.”  
  
The duke smiled, sending chills all the way down the Englishman's spine. There was something forced about the expression and it did nothing to make the man appear more likeable.  
  
“There's a thought,” he said slowly. “Perhaps you'll join me and a couple of acquaintances in a meeting later tonight? We can further discuss this suggestion of yours.”  
  
“Of course, your Grace.”  
  
“Very well then,” the duke said, getting to his feet. “Now, if you'll excuse me, baron, other guests should be arriving shortly. I must ready myself for proper greetings.”  
  
He shot one last scathing look at Daniel and left the parlour, his wine mostly untouched. Alexander's expression turned cold the moment he was out of earshot. “What a disgrace,” he growled. “To think I should have to grovel in front of such a pathetic man.”  
  
Daniel said nothing. He took a swig from his glass, feeling thoroughly humiliated, and slammed the glass on the table rather louder than necessary. Alexander placed a steadying hand on his shoulder.  
  
“Pay no attention to what he says, Daniel,” the baron said quietly.  
  
“He's… he's just so—“  
  
“I know.”  
  
Daniel took another sip from his glass, then stood up. If he wanted to stay sober, he needed something else to do than sitting in the parlour, seething with rage. “It sounds like people are starting to arrive. Perhaps we should return to the banquet hall.”  


* * *

  
An hour and fifteen minutes, he counted. That's how long it took for all the guests to arrive and properly exchange greetings with the duke and his family. Daniel felt himself growing weary, listening to the seemingly endless litany of empty compliments from nobles whose names and titles he forgot as soon as he'd heard them, all of whom seemed adamant to personally shake the duke's hand and ask him how things were in the court nowadays. At first, it had been quite fascinating; he felt like he was eavesdropping but with permission, but he soon noticed there was nothing truly interesting to be gained from these conversations. Alexander stood next to him, grasping his upper arm, and though he appeared alert on the outside, Daniel could tell he was just as bored as he was.  
  
The baron took a glass of wine from a passing waiter and lifted it to his lips. Daniel shifted restlessly, trying to find a more comfortable position. His back was starting to ache from standing around idly for so long.  
  
“How can you stand this?” Daniel muttered to him, though there was no real reason to keep quiet – no one would have heard them over the general tumult anyway.  
  
“Because I must,” the baron said simply. “With status come unpleasant responsibilities.”  
  
“Sounds dreadful.”  
  
Alexander laughed dryly.  
  
“About the earlier conversation,” Daniel said, sounding uncertain. “With the duke, I mean. What exactly was that all about? I'm not sure I understood what you were trying to do.”  
  
The baron flashed him a crooked smile. “I've tied his hands, essentially. He cannot launch an investigation against me when I have already initiated one myself. If I bring this concern to his attention personally, he will have less room to manoeuvre.”  
  
“I'm not sure I get where you're going with this.”  
  
“It's about creating a diversion. I cannot dispel his suspicions about me, but I can ascertain that his spies are exactly where I want them instead of having to question their whereabouts constantly.”  
  
“Do you think he'll be spying on you even after this?”  
  
“I am certain of it,” Alexander said nonchalantly. “That does not worry me. I only want to know where his men are and with what excuse the duke is placing them in my domain. Let him be suspicious if he wants to, as long as it's on my terms.”  
  
Many of the guests had also stopped by to greet Alexander. They were hovering close to the banquet table and all its delicacies, and Daniel had a hunch this was on purpose; there was no way people heading for the table would miss the baron's presence. Daniel had been delighted that those who'd stopped by to chat with them, at least, hadn't mentioned his accent or seemed to mind his foreign origin. After travelling and working abroad so much he hadn't thought that rude remarks about his foreingness would have bothered him, but he couldn't deny the duke's attitude had irked him.  
  
An elderly couple of nobles had stopped by to shake hands with Alexander briefly, exchanging greetings. There was a loud squeal of delight from somewhere in the crowd as the couple moved on, no longer blocking the baron and Daniel from view, and a young girl elbowed her way to them. Her eyes shone with joy, and it took only a few moments for Daniel to recognise her as one of Margaret's friends.  
  
“My lady,” Daniel said with a small bow. “What a joyous surprise to see you again.”  
  
“We have missed your stories, sir,” she simpered, offering him her hand. He took it, pressing a light kiss on it. She giggled, apparently delighted.  
  
“I have missed you and your friends, my lady. It has been so very lonely without such pleasant company.”  
  
“Wait till I let the lady Margaret know you've come again,” she smirked. She turned to Alexander, curtseying gracefully. “Baron von Brennenburg. I am honoured to make your acquaintance. My father speaks of you so often that it feels nothing short of unfair to have been denied the chance of greeting you myself so far.”  
  
Alexander, too, took her hand and kissed it politely, bowing slightly. “Lady Anne,” he said in a deep voice. “It is a joy to finally meet you personally. How are your parents?”  
  
“Quite well, thank you, lord Baron, sir,” she said. “My father could not make the banquet, he's away on business, but mother accompanied me here tonight. She'll be happy to greet you later, I am sure.”  
  
“It'll be my pleasure to see her again,” Alexander smiled and inclined his head. “I see that you are already acquainted with my caretaker, Daniel.”  
  
“We met in the spring, sir. He is a charming man.”  
  
“He is indeed,” the baron agreed. “I am very lucky to have such a servant.”  
  
“We would all be lucky to have someone like him. You must not begrudge us ladies too much should we steal him from you tonight,” Anne said teasingly. Both she and Alexander laughed, and the Englishman coughed loudly, embarrassed.  
  
“As long as you return him in timely manner, lady Anne.”  
  
“Really, now,” Daniel scoffed, and the girl laughed again.  
  
“It's so good to see you again, sir Daniel,” she said gently. “I'll see you later, I hope.” She curtseyed to them once more before taking her leave. The baron watched her go, an amused twinkle in his eyes.  
  
“Was that really necessary?” the brunette complained.  
  
“You have become quite the ladies' man,” he replied. “I have to make sure I get back what's mine.”  
  
The brunette's heart skipped a beat, but Alexander, already cornered by another acquaintance, didn't notice. Daniel grabbed a glass of wine just to look busy, hoping no one would notice him blushing. _To hell with sobriety,_ he thought and downed his glass in one go. At least he could pretend the colour on his face was just from too many drinks if anyone asked.  
  
“Here comes your little playmate,” Alexander said suddenly. When Daniel looked confused he pointed at the other end of the hall, where the duke had just been joined by his wife, Margaret, and several serious-looking men in moustaches that Daniel didn't know.  
  
“Who are those men with the duke?”  
  
“That'll be my party,” Alexander said, setting down his glass on the banquet table. Sure enough, the duke had found Alexander with his gaze and waved at him, clearly signaling him to come join them. “You cannot join me this time, I'm afraid.”  
  
“Will you be fine on your own?”  
  
“I'll be alright, Daniel. Don't drink too much in my absence.”  
  
“I won't,” he said absent-mindedly. He had just noticed Margaret slipping away from her father's company and making her way towards them; she had clearly spotted him. The duke and the duchess seemed too distracted by their current company to notice she'd given them the slip.  
  
“Hopefully the duke will be too preoccupied by my presence to notice you have whisked his precious daughter away once more,” the elder said, amused.  
  
“You are full of diversionary tactics tonight, sir.”  
  
The baron chuckled, making to leave. Daniel grabbed him by the sleeve, suddenly struck by an idea. “Before you go,” he whispered in his ear. “Meet me in the upper corridor two hours after midnight. One of the small cabinets, like last time.”  
  
Alexander shot him a questioning glance, but lady Margaret had just pushed her way through the crowd and yelled his name excitedly. Daniel let go of his arm and gave him a small push as he turned to face the duke's daughter.  
  
“I was hoping you'd come,” she told him, stopping right in front of him. Her cheeks were bright pink and she was panting; she had clearly ran there. Daniel could feel the baron's eyes still on him.  
  
“It's good to see you again, lady Margaret,” he said, taking her hand and kissing it. She seemed delighted.  
  
“Papa was angry last time,” she told him conspiratorially. “He has opinions about what sort of people I should or shouldn't mingle with.”  
  
“Oh dear,” he said with mock-concern. “And what did you say to him?”  
  
“That I'd be a good girl and behave myself from now on.” She winked, grinning broadly.  
  
“And I'm sure you will,” Daniel responded seriously, and they both laughed. A waiter walked past, holding a tray laden with wine glasses, and they paused to grab glasses of their own. Margaret took a sip immediately, smacking her lips appreciatively afterwards.  
  
“I much prefer white wine, personally,” she admitted with a theatrical sigh. “What good fortune that they have chosen to serve it tonight.”  
  
“Indeed it is, lady Margaret.”  
  
“Please tell me you'll keep me company today. I am so dreadfully bored by all this political banter that I think I'll die if I have to remain my parents even for a second.”  
  
“I'd be only too happy to accompany you, my lady,” he said, smiling. “Did the lady Anne speak with you yet? She came by to greet the baron and I just a little while ago.”  
  
“No, I haven't seen her tonight.” She grabbed him by the arm, leaning closer to whisper to him so that no one else could hear her. “We don't need to sit with my friends tonight, sir. Let's sit somewhere together, just the two of us, and you can tell me about your travels again.”  
  
“Won't your friends be terribly disappointed?”  
  
She giggled. “Wouldn't that be a shame?”  
  
Daniel smiled at her warmly, taking a sip of his own drink. The flush on her face and her wide, sparkling eyes spoke a bit too clearly of her intentions; it wouldn't be difficult to make her go along with his plans. He pretended to consider something for a while.  
  
“I have an idea,” he whispered back at her. “You said your father collects antiques, didn't you? Perhaps you could give me a tour – in private, of course.”  
  
She beamed at him. “Come with me. Papa keeps his collection upstairs – we can speak uninterrupted there.”  
  
Daniel let her take his hand and pull him through the assembled crowd, all of whom were too busy preparing for the dance to start to pay any attention to a couple sneaking out of the banquet hall. None of the servants looked twice at them as they sneaked up the stairs and vanished through the door to the corridor that held the private cabinets of the duke's household. Margaret glanced at him once over her shoulder, smiling innocently, and Daniel beamed back at her, trying not to feel too guilty for what would follow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, tension. Being a foreigner in my current country of residence, I may have poured some of my more unpleasant experiences into this chapter - it can be a tough existence, living outside of your native land since there will always be people who will treat you like you're stupid or worth less simply for not being native. It's frustrating and humiliating, and I can relate to Daniel's anger very well because of this. ^^;
> 
> Daniel plotting things on his own makes me nervous, even though it's me who's writing the story. What are you planning, boy? What will you do with your charming little companion? *squints at* Someone needs to keep an eye on him and stop him from doing anything stupid.
> 
> Anyway, thank you so much (once again) for all your wonderful comments in the previous chapter, they really worked wonders on my writing motivation! <3 I'll update again sometime next weekend (that is, 3rd-4th December) depending on my schedule, so take care until then! And I can promise you, that's a chapter I've looked forward to for months now~


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'You loved me back to life, life  
> From the coma  
> The wait is over  
> You loved me back to life, life  
> From the coma  
> We're lovers again tonight'
> 
> Céline Dion – Loved Me Back To Life

_September 1841_

The wine carafe on the table was almost empty, two glasses standing next to it. Margaret had downed most of it; when she'd started talking there had been no stopping her. Daniel had found it unnecessary to say much else in-between than 'uh-huh' and 'really?', and her passion had only been fueled by his undivided attention. So much talking had gotten her terribly thirsty, and she had unceremoniously nicked the wine from one of the cabinets.

Daniel brushed a stray lock off her face and she sighed in her sleep. She lay passed out on the divan, her head leaning back against the plush pillows. He felt a twinge of pity for her; it was too clear to him that she grew lonely in this remote location without friends to talk to, and her father guarded her like a hawk, preventing her from venturing out on her own. Being a woman, Daniel thought, did not seem as easy as he might have thought from afar – it seemed to come with strings attached, and he could very well understand how someone as outgoing as Margaret would find it frustrating.  
  
She was a lovely girl, even he could tell that much. Her elaborate curls had come loose and her lipstick was smudged around her mouth, but she looked so at peace in her sleep that he almost wished he could feel something for her. Almost. He hadn't offered much of a protest when she'd wrapped her slender arms around his neck and kissed him earnestly, but it had been more out of compassion than anything else. She was so sweet, and so lonely. Kissing her had been like kissing summer air, warm, easy, comfortable, but it had left him feeling empty. It had been like comforting a crying child while tucking her to bed and assuring her she'd sleep without nightmares tonight; reassuring and entirely false. And then she'd cried, just a little, because she would be forced to marry some faceless, nameless stranger of her father's choosing, and she wasn't allowed to show anything but gratitude for it.  
  
He stroked her cheek gently, watching her sleeping figure. “I'm sorry, Margaret,” he muttered. “I can't give you more than this.”  
  
Daniel glanced at the grandfather clock standing on the other side of the room. It had chimed two in the morning not too long ago, but even that hadn't roused the sleeping woman. He wasn't surprised by this. She had drunk so much that he had frankly been alarmed by how much alcohol someone as tiny as she could get down.  
  
There was a soft knock and the door opened by a couple of inches. “Daniel?”  
  
“I'm here,” he answered. Alexander peeked into the room and stepped in quietly, closing the door after himself. His eyes fell on Margaret, fast asleep next to the brunette.  
  
“I see you have company.”  
  
“It's alright. She's had so much to drink that I doubt even a gunshot would wake her up now.” He beckoned the baron closer, drinking in his appearance. He looked undoubtedly handsome dressed in red, he though, and wondered how lucky Margaret was that she didn't know who he had been actually thinking of while kissing her. “How was the meeting?”  
  
“The duke's men were quite agreeable with my suggestions,” Alexander said. “He doesn't have much of a choice now that there are others who have heard my proposal.”  
  
“That is good news.”  
  
“It is,” he nodded. He eyed Daniel carefully, his expression unreadable. “Would you care to explain why you've called me here when you're obviously busy?”  
  
“I'm laying a trap,” Daniel replied.  
  
“I beg your pardon?”  
  
The Englishman gestured at the sleeping girl. Her head was lolling in such an angle that the small bruises on her neck were clearly visible, a trail of kisses that had gone just a little too far. “When you spoke of a diversion, I had an idea. Distracting the duke's attention simply by stationing his men where you want them is one thing, but we have no guarantee he will not think of something more if his eye is focused too heavily on Brennenburg. Something else is needed, something that will keep him from leaving his estate for a while.”  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
Daniel cast a side-eyed glance at Margaret. “Bite her. Drain her as far as you dare without killing her.”  
  
Alexander stared at him, his mouth agape. He seemed stunned into silence for once. Daniel pressed on before he could regain his speech.  
  
“She won't wake up in this state, and no one will be able to tell one bite from another. The servants can only tell she was alone with a young man, and no one will look into it beyond that.” The baron didn't say anything – his eyes were fixated on the girl's neckline. “Take her blood, and I'm certain she'll be ill for a long time. The duke is obsessed with her safety; he'll be too busy worrying about her to spare another thought on you.”  
  
“Is that why you led her here with you?” Alexander asked. He sounded flabbergasted.  
  
Daniel stood up, his expression dead serious. “You shouldn't have to be alone in this. I want to help.” He paused, then continued more hesitantly. “Just… don't kill her, if you can avoid it.”  
  
The elder still looked astonished, but he didn't ask any more questions. He approached the sleeping girl slowly, sitting on the divan next to her. He brushed her hair out of the way, mapping the area where love bites decorated her skin. Still she did not stir, her bosom merely rising and falling slowly as she slept. Alexander lowered himself over her carefully, holding her still as he fed, and though she moaned quietly in her sleep she did not wake up.  
  
It seemed to take so little time for Daniel, but when the baron was done Margaret was considerably paler, though her face was still flushed with alcohol. Alexander stood up, licking off the last drops of blood from the corners of his mouth. There was no trace of what had happened on the girl's neck, not a hint of blood left behind.  
  
“I think she'll be alright,” the elder said, glancing at her quickly. “She's small but healthy. She should recover from it, but it will take time. I took quite a lot of her blood.”  
  
Daniel nodded. He hadn't drank as much as the other time, but he could still feel the alcohol in his blood, keeping him considerably calmer than he would have been without it. Margaret looked so small, curled up on the divan alone. He guessed that the next time he met her she'd be married – that is, if they ever met again.  
  
“Let's leave her to sleep,” Alexander said quietly, and he nodded, following him out of the room. The corridor was as dark as ever but some of the other cabinets, too, were clearly occupied. They could hear laughter and quiet chatter as they passed behind closed doors, and some people came rushing past them, giggling and clearly intoxicated, as they approached the door leading out of the wing. People had spread out all over the mansion while Daniel and Margaret had been in their secluded parlour, and no one seemed to pay attention to the baron and his servant as they slipped back to the banquet hall.  
  
“It really is quite full tonight, isn't it?” Daniel asked. The musicians were playing enthusiastically despite the lateness of the hour, and there were quite a number of couples still on the dance floor. Many more lounged around on the edges of the hall, chattering, joking and drinking; in the middle of the floor Daniel could just make out the figures of the duke and his wife, dancing modestly.  
  
“It seems there were many late-comers tonight,” the baron said. “Come, let's find an empty parlour somewhere.”  
  
Alexander picked up a glass of wine on the way and Daniel grabbed himself a pastry, suddenly feeling famished. Eventually they found an empty parlour towards the end of the hall, way past the banquet table. There were empty plates and glasses on the table, a clear sign it hadn't been too long since the room had been deserted. Alexander left the doors slightly ajar, just enough for them to hear the music and the chatter of the main hall.  
  
Daniel threw himself on a couch and ate his pastry in one go. He hadn't managed to get much down that day, and the wine was making him hungrier than he'd expected. Alexander sat down next to him, placing his glass on the table. For a while they sat in silence, listening to the music.  
  
“I don't understand you,” Alexander said abruptly.  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
“You've spent all this time making it abundantly clear you don't accept my feeding others than you,” he pointed out, his amber eyes thunderous. “The last time we were in this very same mansion you ended up hurting yourself because I'd fed on someone else. Yet now… now you go out of your way to arrange me to take your little friend's blood.” There was a deep frown on his face, and Daniel could hear the confusion beyond his anger. “You have her scent all over you, you know. I could have sworn you were trying to seduce her, and instead you offer her neck on a silver platter to me.”  
  
“You thought I—?” Daniel sputtered, sounding scandalised. “You thought I was trying to woo her?”  
  
“What else did you think it looked like? You've clearly been busy doing more than just making polite conversation with her.”  
  
“I'm not interested in her!” he protested. The baron looked even more enraged.  
  
“Then what on earth are you trying to do? Why would you dirty your hands like this for my sake when you know how risky that is? You could have gotten caught. You have exploited that poor besotted girl's feelings to advance your own schemes!”  
  
Daniel opened and closed his mouth, like a fish out of water, a blush creeping on his visage. It sounded so much worse out of someone else's mouth. “I just… I wanted to help you, that's all. Keep the duke off your back, you know.”  
  
“You can leave such things to me, you idiot. Don't you feel bad for that poor girl? Despite my best efforts she could still die from losing so much blood—“  
  
“Of course I feel bad!” He thought back on Einhardt, of the guilt his death still roused in him, and he knew he'd feel ten times worse if Margaret died, too.  
  
Alexander leaned closer to him, looking directly into his eyes as though trying to read his mind. “Then why would you do this to yourself?”  
  
“Because...” Daniel faltered, his eyes darting all over the place, trying to look everywhere but the baron.  
  
“Because?”  
  
The brunette let out a sound of anguish, like a strangled sigh, and his composure crumbled in front of those eyes. He heard the words slip out before he had the chance to stop them. “Isn't it obvious? Because I _love_ you, you dimwitted fool.”  
  
Alexander stared at him, anger melting away.  
  
“What?”  
  
“I've loved you for a long time already,” Daniel whispered. “I didn't want make this more difficult for you, I swear. I just… I wanted to keep you safe.” He could feel his lower lip tremble and he wanted to back away, leave the room before he made a further fool of himself, but just as he made to get up Alexander grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him back on the couch. He cupped the younger man's face between his hands, forcing him to meet his gaze.  
  
“Please say that again,” he said, his voice much softer now. Daniel swallowed.  
  
“I love you.”  
  
Alexander's hands betrayed nothing but the slightest tremour. “Come here,” he said, and then he was kissing the younger man full on the mouth. The baron pulled him against his chest, his arms tangling around Daniel and holding him close until they both were out of breath and dizzy. When they broke apart a lone tear rolled out from the corner of the brunette's eye, trailing down his cheek. He sniffed loudly.  
  
“Are you alright?” Alexander asked.  
  
“I thought you'd be disgusted with me, to be honest,” Daniel admitted.  
  
“Why on earth would you think that?”  
  
“I am a man. It's… it's not normal for a man to love another man.”  
  
Alexander stared at him, eyebrows raised. “That's ridiculous. Who told you that?”  
  
“I… well, it's just something everyone knows, isn't it? That love is only between a man and a woman.”  
  
The baron pulled him closer, pressing a kiss against his forehead. “Well, that's clearly not the case, as I'm sure you've noticed now.”  
  
Daniel laughed weakly and kissed him again, pressing against his warmth, letting him cradle him in his arms until he felt drunk with kisses and not wine. Alexander's breath was warm against his skin, his hands tender as he held him close.  
  
“Were you ever going to tell me?” the baron murmured into his hair.  
  
“I don't know. I hadn't thought that far ahead.”  
  
Alexander sighed. “Of course you hadn't.”  
  
Daniel ignored him. His attention was drawn to the music wafting in from the ballroom, and he couldn't resist humming along, recognising the melody. It felt strange that he had danced with Margaret and her friends in this mansion, but not with the person holding him right now.  
  
“I wish we could go there and dance, too,” he said mournfully.  
  
“What are you talking about?”  
  
“I've danced with the lady Margaret here, but not with you.”  
  
“And what's preventing us?”  
  
“It's not proper,” Daniel said, shocked. “At least, not in front of all those people.”  
  
Alexander pushed him off himself gently and stood up. He held out his hand to Daniel. “We don't have to dance in front of them. There is no one else in this parlour.”  
  
Daniel stared at him incredulously, sure that he was joking, but the elder didn't relent. Slowly, Daniel took his hand, allowing him to pull him to his feet.  
  
“But who should steer?” the Englishman asked uncertainly.  
  
“You may, if you wish to. Does it matter so much?”  
  
He wasn't sure what he wanted if he was perfectly honest with himself; there seemed to be a series of miniature explosions going on inside his mind, like fireworks, and it was making him too giddy to think straight. He let Alexander place his hand on his waist and they stood close, just like they'd practised so many months previously. And then he took the first steps to the rhytmn of the music, and Alexander followed his lead.  
  
It was a slow melody, and they were so close to each other as they moved that Daniel could feel the heat of the fresh blood radiating from the baron with each step. Perhaps it was an after effect of feeding but Alexander's eyes were very bright and his skin had a warm flush upon it, and he seemed unable to tear his eyes off the younger man. Daniel smiled at him, and the elder smiled back.  
  
“I should have known,” the baron muttered. “It should have been obvious to me long ago.”  
  
Daniel shook his head, smiling sadly. “It only dawned on me just a little time ago, too. Perhaps it was obvious, but I just couldn't see it. Not until...”  
  
He trailed off, unable to finish. _Not until I started fearing losing you._  
  
Outside in the ballroom the song came to an end and a round of applause echoed all around the room. They came to a halt, too, still holding each other.  
  
“Sounds like the banquet is ending.”  
  
Daniel hummed quietly. “Dawn is still some three hours away. Do you think there's enough time to reach Brennenburg before that?”  
  
“If we hurry.”  
  
“Then let's hurry.”  
  
The carriage ride out of the mansion and through the rolling countryside passed in a blur. It would have been cold that late at night even with his cloak on, but the baron kept his arm wrapped around his shoulders the entire way, letting Daniel's head rest against his shoulder. The sky grew paler little by little, stars becoming harder to see, but he couldn't bring himself to worry about time. Alexander was relaxed and calm next to him, and it was enough to tell him there was no need for concern; he could sense it if they were running out of time.  
  
There was a pale blue glow in the horizon as they pulled to a halt in front of the gates, and the driver held the door open for them.  
  
“Thank you for your services, Edgar,” Alexander said, handing the man a small pouch. “I am sorry for inconveniencing you at such a late hour.”  
  
“Not at all, lord Baron, sir,” he answered, pocketing the pouch gleefully. “I hope the banquet was enjoyable.”  
  
“It was indeed, but I think we all need rest now.”  
  
“Right you are, sir. Goodnight.”  
  
“Have a safe journey, Edgar.”  
  
Alexander was still grasping the younger man's arm as the carriage turned around and disappeared into the woods. Pale morning light was just creeping into the castle as they entered through the main door and clambered up the stairs. Daniel could tell the vampyre was growing exhausted, his senses calling him to rest. Daniel made to turn towards the servants' quarters but Alexander just grasped him tighter and pulled him right back towards him.  
  
“You need to sleep,” Daniel protested.  
  
“Yes, I know,” the baron said. “And I'm taking you with me.”  
  
He couldn't think of any good reasons to protest against that.  


* * *

  
There's a first time for everything. It wasn't the first time Alexander had taken him to his bed, but waking up curled up against him with his arm still draped around Daniel's back, well, that was definitely a first. It took him a moment to recall how he'd ended up there and when he did, he closed his eyes and leaned against the baron's chest once more, his anxious mind at peace for once. Alexander was fast asleep, his sleeping face perfectly blank. They had fallen asleep on top of the covers, but the heat radiating from the vampyre was such that Daniel felt quite warm just like this. His party clothes were probably hopelessly wrinkly by now, but neither of them had given a second thought to changing into something more suitable before laying down. Daniel had merely shed the cloak and his overcoat, and though sleeping in a waistcoat wasn't exactly comfortable it hadn't stopped him from dozing off.  
  
Before, sharing the bed with the baron had meant giving him his blood, but this time they'd simply laid there, arms around each other, exchanging slow, lazy kisses until sleep claimed them. Daniel thought he'd never felt so satisfied in his entire life; whenever he was bitten it left him wanting more, the desire unrelenting, but falling asleep in the embrace of the man he loved left him more content than he could have ever imagined.  
  
That's going to take some getting used to, he thought, calling him his lover. The thought alone was enough to make him feel warm. Closing his eyes he recalled a hundred occasions where they'd embraced each other; where letting the vampyre feed on him had turned into heated kisses; a hundred stolen hours in the darkness, just for the two of them.  
  
_I guess I am terribly dense,_ he admitted. _I should have known a long time ago._ He looked at the sleeping face of the baron and couldn't resist grinning. _At least that makes two of us._ It was an oddly comforting thought.  
  
Daniel gave him a gentle push, making him withdraw his arm and roll to his back. Alexander only grunted in his sleep but didn't show a single sign of waking up. The brunette watched him for a moment, smiling slightly, then got up from the bed and tiptoed out of the room, careful not to wake him.  
  
It was an overcast day outside, but Daniel's thoughts weren't on his chores for once. He walked to the kitchen, stomach gurgling – he suddenly remembered he hadn't eaten anything after that one pastry last night. He took his time in preparing a proper meal and ate with more enthusiasm than he had in a long time, and the waistband of his trousers felt much tighter once he was finished.  
  
“Oh well,” he muttered to himself. “Alexander does keep telling me that I don't eat enough.”  
  
He took a short trip to his own quarters, returning the master key to its proper place. He only had to take a glance in the mirror to realise he needed to change out of the party clothes – the shirt was more wrinkles than cloth now, and he was certain the town seamstress would have slapped him across the face if she'd seen the state of his waistcoat. It was with some relief that he changed back to his own comfortable clothes, feeling more like himself. He recalled vaguely that his travelling clothes were still in the suitcase with Alexander's things, but at the moment it didn't seem that important. Unpacking could wait.  
  
He'd meant to only go back to his quarters to fetch something to read, but the desire to slip outside seemed to have become untolerable after two days of travel. Daniel grabbed his journal, his thoughts already on the garden.  
  
Many of the other flowers had already started to wilt, the nights growing too chilly for them, but he was glad to see his roses still persisted. The white ones had started losing petals, but there were still quite a few of the other kinds left. He wished he'd known their names; it had slipped his mind entirely to ask Alexander what they were. His favourites, the salmon pink ones, were slowly wilting, about to share the white roses' fate. He fetched the garden shears and cut off the remaining flowers, arranging them into an old vase and bringing them to the baroness' grave where the flowers he'd planted in the spring had already begun wilting.  
  
Daniel knelt down, carefully placing down the vase in front of the gleaming headstone. It seemed oddly suitable, offering them to her, and he wondered if her spirit appreciated the gesture from wherever she was now.  
  
“I'm much too sentimental,” he told himself, chuckling. He stood up, looking at her name thoughtfully. “I can't help but wonder what you were like. You loved him, too, after all.”  
  
He cut some of the wine red roses on his way back and brought them with him, returning to the baron's quarters. Alexander was still fast asleep, apparently lying exactly where Daniel had left him. He placed the roses in a vase on top of the fireplace and climbed back to bed next to the sleeping man.  


* * *

  
It was many hours later that Daniel heard the baron shifting next to him. He opened his eyes slowly, blinking, and as he turned his head his eyes fell on Daniel. He reached out to touch the younger man's face.  
  
“Ah,” he murmured. “You were real, after all.”  
  
Daniel looked up from his journal, quill pausing. “Good evening to you, too.”  
  
Alexander pushed himself to sitting position, stretching slowly. His clothes were just as wrinkly as the brunette's had been, with the exception that he hadn't bothered taking off his overcoat before laying down.  
  
“I'm surprised you are still here.”  
  
“Would you have preferred to be left alone?”  
  
“No. But it is a rare luxury, waking up next to someone.”  
  
He sounded so pleased that Daniel felt himself flushing again, and he wrenched his eyes off the elder. “Don't get too used to it. I still like my own bed better.”  
  
Alexander laughed, its rich sound echoing freely in the room. “Perhaps I'll still get to borrow your company every once in a while.”  
  
“Perhaps,” Daniel said evasively. To his astonishment Alexander leaned in and kissed his cheek, still smelling of sleep and wine and something uniquely him.  
  
“You are being awfully coy after last night,” the baron murmured into his ear, drawing a shudder from the younger man.  
  
“I'm not coy.”  
  
“Yes, you are. You can barely look at me.”  
  
Daniel sighed and put down his journal. Alexander's eyes were only inches from his, much closer than his heart seemed to be able to handle, and he couldn't help faltering under his stare.  
  
“See?”  
  
“It's not that,” Daniel mumbled, absent-mindedly twisting a lock of hair around his finger. “I just… I don't know what to do now. I don't know what to expect.”  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
“I've never… well...” He gestured vaguely, not really knowing how to best explain himself. Alexander breathed in sharply, suddenly understanding.  
  
“You have never been in love before? Is that what you're trying to say?”  
  
Daniel nodded, too embarrassed for words. The baron touched his chin, tilting back his head.  
  
“Daniel, look at me,” he said quietly. “Aren't we already bound to each other through loyalty and devotion? Once, I vowed to share my blood with you, and with you only. Likewise, you have sworn time and again to bear the burden of staying true to me. Nothing needs to change between us. We can continue as we have thus far. There are no rules for what we must do or say, or how we must behave around each other. That is for us alone to decide.”  
  
“All I want is to be with you,” Daniel blurted out before he could stop himself.  
  
“I think you've already made that quite clear,” the baron said with a lopsided smirk. “You have effectively tied my hands, so that I'll never request a single service from another mortal than you. Wherever I go, you follow me like a shadow – whether or not I tell you to stay put.”  
  
“Does that bother you?”  
  
“Even if it did you'd still do it, wouldn't you?”  
  
“Without a doubt,” Daniel agreed, trying to keep a straight face, but the corners of his mouth were twitching. “I am your most loyal servant, whether you want it or not.”  
  
“You are a terrible person.”  
  
“Says the one who feeds on human blood to stay alive.”  
  
They beheld each other for a moment, feigning seriousness, until Daniel lost it and burst out laughing. Alexander's eyes were gentle as he smiled and the brunette wished he wouldn't, not when he was that close; he could feel butterflies in his stomach again. Then, unable to hold it back any more, he took the baron's face between his hands and kissed him once, twice, three times, until his treacherous hands had somehow wound themselves into his hair like they had no desire to let go of him again. Alexander pulled him on his lap, holding him tight, answering his kisses with fervour of his own. Alexander tilted his head, deepening the angle of their kiss, and Daniel let out a muffled groan as the baron's tongue slipped inside his mouth.  
  
Alexander's hands seemed to be everywhere, sliding down his back and to his backside, caressing his thighs and his chest with such intensity as though he'd been yearning for this as badly as the younger man had. Daniel soon discovered that he didn't need to be bitten for the baron to make his body react, and he had a nasty feeling the other man could feel it all too well the way they were pressed together. If he noticed, and Daniel was sure that he did, he didn't seem to mind; he simply pulled the younger man closer, unbuttoning his shirt.  
  
“Alexander?” he breathed in his ear, breaking their kiss for a moment.  
  
“Yes?”  
  
“Are you going to bite me again?”  
  
“No. Today, I believe you deserve something different,” the vampyre replied, kissing his jugular with bruising force. He took his time placing little kisses here and there, nipping lightly, and even without properly biting it was more than enough to make Daniel feel uncomfortably tight in his trousers. He clung to the baron, his arms shaking lightly.  
  
“Do you want me to stop?” Alexander asked, his voice even huskier than usual. There was a deep flush upon his visage, his eyes clouded over in a way that Daniel had come to associate with blood lust. This time, however, he suspected it was hunger of an altogether different kind, and he suddenly suspected he wasn't the only one who'd been concealing his feelings all this time. The brunette claimed his lips again.  
  
“No, please don't,” he whispered. His hands trembled as he eased Alexander out of his clothes, layer by layer, until he was bare to the waist. Daniel felt himself pushed down on the bed and he bit his lip, failing to stop himself from smiling as he took in the man above him, looking just as tousled as he was. “I've no idea what we're doing,” he said, and Alexander bent down to kiss him once more.  
  
“Nor have I,” the baron confessed. “But I am sure we'll figure it out.”  
  
He lowered himself over the younger man, opening the remaining buttons of his shirt and gently touching his bared stomach, his fingers splaying into a fan as he caressed him. His hands were so deliriously warm from freshly taken blood that Daniel wished to have them to himself forever. Or at least for one evening.  
  
“So am I,” Daniel sighed, pushing up against the touch.  
  
Alexander trailed kisses all along his jaw until dipping lower to nip his neck again. “My love,” he whispered, his breath ghosting against Daniel's skin. Those words obliterated all else off the Englishman's mind; he could hardly believe his ears. His hands found Alexander's hair again and yanked him closer so that he could see the elder's face, pulling at his hair hard enough to draw a growl of pleasure from him. Daniel's eyes sought his, a new kind of urgency burning inside him.  
  
“Say that again,” he choked out. He'd told himself he would be content with anything as long as he was allowed to remain with Alexander, but this had eluded him entirely. It hadn't been on his list of possibilities that his feelings could be returned, all of it much too good, much too far-fetched to be true.  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
“You said 'love'. Please say it again if you meant it,” Daniel almost pleaded. He had to bite his lip to keep it from trembling. “Please say that you meant it.”  
  
He felt like such a desperate fool for demanding it, for needing the reassurances, but he knew he'd never believe it if he didn't see Alexander's mouth form those words in front of him, if even then. But Alexander didn't answer his plea with ridicule. Instead he stole the brunette's breath away with another toe-curling kiss, their bodies flush together so that they could feel every small tremble and movement the other made. Alexander's weight felt so inviting that Daniel couldn't keep himself from bucking up against him.  
  
It made an obscene noise when the baron broke away from the kiss. “I do mean it, love,” he said, his voice so raw with emotion that Daniel thought it alone could turn his bones to water. The elder's nose rubbed against his, nuzzling softly. “My love,” he repeated, and Daniel knew he meant it.  
  
“Yours,” came his reply before he could stop to think. “Irrevocably yours.”  
  
Alexander shifted and pulled away just enough to reach the younger man's trousers. Slowly, he started undoing the fastenings. “May I?”  
  
“Please,” was all that Daniel managed, and Alexander obliged. If it took them the whole night to figure this out, well, he suspected neither of them would mind much, and they had so much lost time to make up for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well well, we fiiinally got there, didn't we? I've looked forward to this chapter for a long time and I'm really excited to let you all finally read it! I'm actually sick again (my immune system is shot to hell and I get sick like every two months or so, it sucks) and kinda out of it atm but hell if I'm not keeping to my publishing schedule after leaving you guys with such a cliffhanger last time. *sneezes* Oh Daniel, you tool, you absolutely magnificent dingus, I'm proud of you.
> 
> I'll try to get the next chapter out sometime next weekend, so see you guys soon! Thank you so much for all the kudos, comments and bookmarks, feel free to let me know what you thought about this chapter! <3


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'I am your black widow  
> I lay all my eggs in your eye  
> I'd kill all my darlings for you, my love  
> If only you would stay one more night'
> 
> Susanne Sundfør – Black Widow

_October 1841  
  
_ To Daniel, it felt like autumn had arrived overnight. One morning he entered the garden to find the rest of his flowers scattered by the wind and a biting chill seeping through his clothes, clearly signalling the end of summer. The trees took on a blaze of colours and below, the valley of Altstadt looked like it was on fire. There was very little left to do outdoors and it was with some regret that Daniel gathered up his tools and returned them to storage, leaving them to wait for the arrival of another spring.  
  
The cool fall air seemed to lift his spirits, or maybe it was simply the fact that the days were once again growing shorter. He considered this, and the thought made him feel weak at his knees. With winter would come the long darkness of Brennenburg, and he found himself anticipating it as though he'd been living for those long hours of darkness his whole life. Perhaps he had, in a way; if there was one thing he was certain of, it was that he felt content like he'd never felt before, or at least in a good long while.  
  
“Alexander,” he murmured in the elder's ear one evening, bending down to kiss his brow. “Wake up.”  
  
“What is it?” Alexander answered, voice still heavy with sleep. Daniel kissed him again.  
  
“The outrider brought good news today.”  
  
Alexander opened his eyes slowly, gaze focusing on the man above him. “What news?”  
  
“He brought a letter. The duke's cronies – the sheriff and his men – have arrived in town. Looks like your plan has worked thus far.”  
  
“That is good news, indeed,” the baron agreed. His lips curved into a crooked smile.  
  
The brunette answered his smile with one of his own. Looking at him like this, eyes only half-open and his clothes dishevelled from sleep, was intoxicating; it made Daniel want to push him against the sheets and demand he spoil him with his attentions again. The baron was watching him with an eyebrow raised, his expression an invitation, and Daniel gave in, climbing on top of him without another thought. He laced their fingers together, kissing the elder with abandon until his lips were swollen. He hardly even noticed Alexander unbuttoning his shirt until cold hands were already exploring his bared skin, mapping areas where evidence still lingered from the previous times he'd taken the brunette into his bed. Daniel winced slightly as fingers roamed across the bruises on his thighs, a testimony to how much stronger the vampyre was than he – Alexander didn't have to grip him very hard at all to leave a mark but Daniel barely noticed it, his touch too heady to leave room for much else.  
  
It took Alexander so little to overwhelm him, no matter how much he was growing used to this newfound closeness. Not too much later he found himself pinned down on the bed, naked to his waist, with Alexander's mouth clamped over his jugular as the baron took his blood, hungry noises escaping his mouth as he drank greedily. The elder only needed to hold him there, pressed tight against him, and Daniel found his release sobbing his name mindlessly, without ever needing to be touched further. It was too much, the bite and this intimacy all at once. Perhaps he ought to have felt ashamed for being so easily satisfied, he thought, but he couldn't bring himself to it.  
  
Later, Alexander cradled him in his arms as Daniel slowly caught his breath, trying to make sense of his muddled thoughts. He felt the elder's fingers carding through his hair, his touch considerably warmer now, and Daniel thought he could fall asleep like this.  
  
“Are you alright?” the baron asked. Daniel just hummed in response, earning him a kiss on the forehead. “I haven't taken your blood in a while.”  
  
“You don't need to sound so apologetic about it.”  
  
“If you fall ill again—“  
  
No more _if_ s or _but_ s,” Daniel said with a tone of finality. “Just savour your triump over the duke. It has been a while since we received such good news.”  
  
Alexander made a sceptical noise at the back of his throat.  
  
“You read his letter yourself,” the younger man continued. “The lady Margaret has been ill with pneumonia; his eye is drawn away from Brennenburg now.”  
  
“Perhaps,” the elder muttered. “But there is still tension amongst the villagers. Rumours, gossip. The arrival of the sheriff will only fuel that.”  
  
Daniel sighed in exasperation. He cupped Alexander's face between his hands and kissed him hard, tongue slipping inside his mouth. The baron groaned against his lips, taken aback.  
  
“You are much too anxious about this,” Daniel told him, still so close to him that he could feel the other's breath on his lips. “There's nothing the villagers can do, no matter what they suspect. Nothing happened while we were in Altstadt, and nothing will happen now, either. Please stop worrying so.”  
  
Alexander didn't seem entirely convinced, but he didn't press the subject further. The younger man thought it best not to mention that someone had tried to get in to their room at the inn that night; the endeavours of some town drunk didn't exactly strike him as alarming, but he didn't trust it to be beyond Alexander's capacity to worry.  


* * *

  
As October rains started falling down in curtains and washing over the castle with their unrelenting force, Daniel realised he had arrived in Brennenburg precisely a year earlier. It was a strange thought. So much had changed in him and for him within the span of a year that he hardly felt like the same person any longer. He sank into his armchair and flipped through the pages of his journal, each word familiar yet as alien as though it had been written by someone else entirely. Hazel smiled at him from her portrait still, and he was able to smile back. He knew he'd feel the terrible void of her absence for as long as he lived, but her memory no longer twisted a knife in his gut or left him feeling empty of essence. Her image smiled that familiar smile and the ghost of her existence was imprinted on every page of his journal, and to Daniel this meant that she had once lived, really, truly lived, that she had touched his life with hers for the fifteen years that had been given to her, and he cherished them all. That she was now gone couldn't erase the fact that she had once been real, his sister; he shared her blood and through that, he supposed, a part of her would always be with him.  
  
Leaves in the trees turned yellow and fell down in cascades, covering the graves of the baron's family. There was nothing left of his roses, now, nothing but leafless stems waiting to sleep over winter, and as an afterthought Daniel gathered evergreen branches and made them into a simple wreath again to place on the baroness' grave.  
  
Two days later, ready to return indoors from the darkening grounds, he found Alexander standing alone on the small cemetery. Daniel locked the toolshed after himself and strode across the lawn, knowing that the elder would be able to sense his approach though he never lifted his gaze. It was bitterly cold, a drizzling rain making it seem almost misty, and Daniel pulled his coat more tightly around himself to fend off the chill.  
  
“Alexander?”  
  
The baron nodded without looking up. Daniel came to stand beside him, shivering.  
  
“You have been taking care of her grave,” the baron said.  
  
“It wouldn't feel appropriate to neglect it.”  
  
“No, it wouldn't.” He sighed, and there was deep remorse etched into every line of his face. “It should be I who tends to her and not you, but I shy away from the task as I did in life. She must detest me.”  
  
“Surely not,” Daniel said doubtfully. “She was your wife, after all.”  
  
“Marriage does not necessarily guarantee happiness, Daniel. Our union was arranged by our parents and forced down our throats; we had no say in the matter. She was deeply unhappy here, with me. I still remember her lying down next to me, crying silently when she thought I'd fallen asleep.”  
  
“But you loved her, didn't you?”  
  
Alexander returned his gaze, such pronounced sorrow in his eyes that it rent the brunette speechless. “I learned to love her eventually, but it couldn't make up for the violence I put her through. When she fell pregnant for the first time she could barely hide her relief; that she had fulfilled her marital responsibilities and could escape my attentions, that I would have no reason to force myself on her.”  
  
Silently, Daniel laid a hand on his shoulder, giving it an awkward pat. Alexander's hair was plastered to his face from the rain, cold water streaming down his cheeks. He looked like a man who'd tried to drown himself, only barely hauled away from death's cold embrace.  
  
“Did she ever forgive you?” Daniel asked quietly, his eyes, too, falling on the woman's grave.  
  
“I don't know.” He sighed. “I suppose she grew to accept her part over the years. She'd been taught to read, unlike many other women during those times, and I made a gift of the library to her so that she could have a place of her own, somewhere to… escape me.”  
  
“You make it sound like she was a prisoner.”  
  
“Is that not what a woman is to her husband? Marriage is a cage of roles forced on both parties, and I was a fool enough to accept mine, effectively imprisoning her into a life that she did not want,” Alexander spat. Daniel could feel his shoulder trembling underneath his hand. “We could have been happy if only I'd seen her as something more than property, as something that I had the right to take as I pleased.”  
  
Daniel listened intently, not daring to interrupt him. He thought of the woman in her portrait and couldn't help pitying her or the man who had been her husband.  
  
“I remember her at her happiest when she was pregnant for the last time, when it had become clear that it would not end in another miscarriage. She let me kiss her without resisting me; sometimes she even kissed me, out of nowhere, and I did not know what to think. Perhaps she had finally given up – accepted what was to become of her.”  
  
“Or perhaps she, too, had learned to love you,” Daniel suggested kindly. “She may not have known how to show it or how to fix the relationship between the two of you, but in her own quiet way she must have loved you in the end.”  
  
Alexander nodded mutely, a raindrop slowly trailing down the bridge of his nose. “I have often wished that I could make amends for my actions,” he said after a long while. “I was not a good husband.”  
  
“No, perhaps you weren't,” Daniel agreed. He placed his hand on the elder's cheek, forcing him to look him in the eye. “But you have learned since then.”  
  
“How can you know that?” the elder said brusquely. “Can you truly know that I'll treat you better than I treated her?”  
  
“Alexander—“  
  
“I do not wish to hurt you as I hurt her,” he said, placing a hand over the brunette's. His fingers wound around the wrist, grasping it so tightly that it was almost painful. “If you had known who I was in the past, you would not love me as you do now.”  
  
The baron's voice was heavy with such genuine bitterness that Daniel could not help but close the remaining inches between them and kiss him lightly.  
  
“But I am not in your past, Alexander, I am in your present,” the younger man reminded him. “And in your future, too, if you'll let me.”  
  
Alexander sighed again.  
  
“It may be lucky that you are a man,” he murmured, pressing their foreheads together. “We are free to be together as equals, you and I, so very unlike from a husband and his wife.”  
  
“You think of me as your equal?” Daniel asked, bewildered.  
  
“Anything less than that would do you no justice, Daniel.”  
  
“Is that not terribly inappropriate for our situation? You are my employer – you are older than me, you are of the nobility—“  
  
“None of those things place you below me,” the baron interrupted. “Do not think so little of yourself.”  
  
The brunette couldn't think of anything to say to that, so he just nodded. His sense of propriety still made its weak protests but it was cold and dreary and he had no desire to argue the point when they were both drenched from the rain. “Come on, let's return indoors,” was all he said in response, and the baron agreed.  
  
Alexander spoke very little as the other man relieved him of his wet garments and helped him into another outfit. Autumn chill had started seeping through the window panes, making the castle as drafty as ever, and they retreated into the baron's study in the library without needing to discuss the matter further. Daniel got a fire going for them but it did little to warm him up; the room was so large that it would take a while for it to heat up.  
  
“I'll fetch something to drink,” he told Alexander and left the room, closing the door after himself. Light rain was still pounding against the windows as he slipped downstairs with a lantern in hand and unlocked the door leading to the cellar. The usual stale smell hit him once again and Daniel wrinkled his nose, willing himself to ignore it as he went down the stairs as quickly as he dared. The stones were slippery and he nearly lost his balance on the last step. This struck him as most odd, and he stopped at the bottom of the stairs, gazing around with the lantern held high. Moisture gleamed on the walls, reflecting the light from the lantern. It was even chillier than upstairs and Daniel shivered. He could feel a draft coming in from somewhere further ahead, but he had no desire to investigate the cause for that.  
  
“Strange,” he muttered. “It's almost as if there's an opening somewhere.”  
  
He looked up at the ceiling nervously but nothing seemed out of place, no new cracks anywhere as far as he could see. Daniel swallowed and stepped into the side chamber that held the remains of Alexander's wine collection, hastily picking up what he wanted. He hadn't been down here since the incident with Einhardt, but it was not the man's fate that haunted him this time; he had a nasty feeling the underground floor was growing more and more unstable with each day. He scaled the stairs as fast as he could, more than glad to leave the oppressive darkness of that horrid place behind.  
  
When he returned to the library Alexander had taken up a chair in front of the fire, his legs resting on a foot stool. He looked up as Daniel shut the door after himself again.  
  
“I was wondering what was taking you so long.”  
  
“It's so chilly that I doubt tea alone would be enough.”  
  
“How much were you planning on drinking?” Alexander asked quizzically, eyes on the two bottles tucked underneath the other man's arm. Daniel winked, setting them on a small table by the fire.  
  
“The other's for you. I assumed you wouldn't say no to a drink on such a dreary night.”  
  
The corners of the baron's mouth quirked up. “How thoughtful of you.”  
  
Daniel conjured two tall glasses from a small cabinet, handing the other to Alexander. He unstoppered the other bottle, one without a label, and poured generously into the elder's glass, the liquid much too thick to be wine.  
  
“May I suggest a toast?”  
  
“And what should we drink to?” Alexander said as the brunette filled his own glass with wine. His mood seemed much improved from earlier, and Daniel smiled at him.  
  
“To us.”  
  
“Us?”  
  
“To you and I, as equals,” Daniel said, lifting his glass. The baron copied him, returning his smile.  
  
“To us, then,” Alexander agreed, and they brought their glasses together with a small _chink_. Daniel sipped his wine slowly, walking over to the fire. He leaned against the fireplace, quite enjoying the warmth of the flames after the draftiness of the cellar. Alexander was still watching him over the rim of his glass.  
  
“I never took you for such a romantic, you know,” Daniel told him.  
  
“Is it unbecoming of me?”  
  
“Not quite. Just unexpected.”  
  
Alexander seemed amused. “Is it so strange that I should rather see you as my equal than as subservient to me?”  
  
“With all due respect, I _am_ still your servant.”  
  
Alexander laughed, the deep rumbling sound of it enough to make Daniel feel rather warm. “You have defied me time and again in my service, you have set _me_ conditions and gone against my orders; you have been much too bold for your position for far longer than you think. No, Daniel, you are no servant. Even you should be able to see that.”  
  
“I'm still acting as your caretaker, though,” the brunette mumbled, rather red in the face.  
  
“That is only a contract on paper, a mere formality,” Alexander said, lifting the glass to his lips again. “And surely you aren't acting as a mere caretaker in my bed?”  
  
Daniel sputtered something incomprehensible in response, nearly dropping his glass. The baron smirked, apparently quite enjoying himself. It did nothing to improve the situation that his lips were liberally stained with blood.  
  
“Such prudence, my dear Daniel.”  
  
“You can be so crude sometimes,” the Englishman said stiffly, pointedly looking away from him.  
  
Alexander chuckled but didn't tease him further. They lapsed into comfortable silence, the younger man slowly sipping his drink. The wine warmed him up pleasantly, bringing heat back to his frozen fingers and toes, and he found the soft drumming of rain quite cozy now that they were indoors. The baron had turned his attention elsewhere, quietly leafing through a book resting on his lap.  
  
Daniel emptied his glass and walked back to the table for another round, deciding the evening called for a bit more. He heard the grandfather clock on the hallway chime eleven o'clock, but he felt no desire to lay down just yet; spending the evenings like this, together, felt like a hard-earned luxury after the long and bright summer months.  
  
“Alexander,” he said, struck by a thought.  
  
“Yes?”  
  
“Weren't you ever lonely, living here all alone?”  
  
“Sometimes,” the elder admitted. “But confinement seemed the only plausible option with my condition.”  
  
“So were those two men you told me about the first ones to live here with you after you'd been turned? Agrippa, and what that other man's name was?”  
  
Alexander nodded, eyeing the younger man pensively as though trying to read where he was going with this. “Johann Weyer. Yes, I had no companions apart from the odd servant until they came along.”  
  
“And no one else after them?”  
  
“No one. Not before your arrival.”  
  
Daniel took a bit of his wine again, lost in thought. Two hundred years and most of it all alone in the secluded location with no friends or family – it sounded terribly sad to him.  
  
“What happened to Weyer afterwards? He was here with you when you tried to turn Agrippa, wasn't he?”  
  
“He was.” Alexander sighed and put down his glass. He rubbed the bridge of his nose wearily, eyes closed. “We fought, but it was for naught; Agrippa was already dead, and there was nothing we could have done to help him. Weyer was beside himself with grief. In the end he stormed out of the castle and left. I haven't seen him since.”  
  
“He left? Just like that?”  
  
“We came close to hurting one another,” the baron said. He sounded shaken, as though thinking about it still shocked him. “I believe he decided to leave before we ended up killing one another.”  
  
Alexander shook his head disbelievingly, turning back to his reading, and Daniel didn't question him further.  


* * *

  
The next day dawned as bleak and wet as the one before. The drizzle had continued all night and showed no sign of wearing off; the sky above was a murky gray, clouds barely moving in the nonexistent wind. It was afternoon when Daniel was roused from his chores by the sound of galloping that drew ever closer, and looking out on the courtyard he saw three figures on horseback coming to a halt in front of the gates. Frowning, he discarded his tools and headed downstairs.  
  
The men had gotten down from their steeds and tied their reins into a pole when Daniel opened the door and stepped into the courtyard. Closer up, he noticed that all three of them were dressed in uniforms he didn't recognise.  
  
“Good afternoon, sirs,” Daniel said politely.  
  
“Good afternoon,” replied one of them, a stocky man with a dark stubble and pale eyes. He was wearing mud-splattered a cloak over his uniform and a hat that reminded Daniel of the outrider, Gabriel. “This is the residence of baron von Brennenburg, unless we are much mistaken?”  
  
“You are not mistaken. I'm his caretaker.”  
  
“Most excellent. Glad to make your acquaintance, sir,” the man said, extending his hand and Daniel took it, shaking it briefly.  
  
“It isn't the most pleasant of days for riding out this far,” Daniel said. “Why don't you come in?”  
  
“Gladly.”  
  
They followed him into the entrance hall where a fire burned brightly in the fireplace, fending off the worst of the chill. The man took off his hat and shook water off it while his comrades looked around, taking in the interior of the castle with expressions of mild curiousity.  
  
“You must excuse the suddenness of our visit,” the man said. “You probably don't get visitors very often in such a location.”  
  
“No, not that often. Is there something we could help you with?”  
  
“I daresay so, sir.” There was a steely edge to the man's voice that Daniel did not like. “The duke Hohenzollern has appointed myself and my men to lead the investigation concerning the continued disappearances around the village of Altstadt. I'm sure you have heard of the situation.”  
  
“I have, as it happens. I was present when the baron and his Grace were discussing the matter. Am I to take it that you are the sheriff?”  
  
“Yes, I am,” the man said, smiling stiffly. “Gabriel must have informed you of our arrival.”  
  
Daniel nodded. “He did. What would you like to know? I am sure you have heard most of it from Gabriel already, but should there be more that you need, any details—“  
  
“Where is the baron himself?” the sheriff cut across, scanning the hall with sharp eyes as though expecting Alexander to materialise from the shadows at any given moment.  
  
“His lordship is resting, sir. I'm afraid his health isn't very good these days.”  
  
“I see,” the sheriff said. He gestured at the other two men without looking at Daniel. “We would like to have a look around, if that's alright with you.”  
  
“Look around? But sir, that makes it sound like—“ Daniel begun, then paused, inhaling sharply. His eyes narrowed as he stared at the man. “You cannot be serious. It was his lordship himself who requested an investigation of the incidents in the first place!”  
  
“Perhaps,” the sheriff said coldly. “But the duke thinks there is something amiss here, and unfortunately, I agree with him.” He turned around to exchange looks with the two others and they nodded at him. “Check the storehouses outdoors.”  
  
Daniel stared after the two men, his mouth agape, as they stormed out into the rain again, leaving the door open after themselves. The sheriff brushed past him without bothering to say anything.  
  
“This is outrageous, good sir!” Daniel cried. He reached out and grabbed the man by his arm, preventing his passage. “You have no right to do this!”  
  
The sheriff wrenched his arm free and turned around to face the brunette again. All amicableness had vanished from his face, his mouth turned into a tight line. “These are no chance disappearances, my good man. I don't know what you and your lord are up to over here, but—“  
  
“You are delusional!”  
  
“Delusional, am I?” the sheriff asked. His eyes raked Daniel from head to toe until focusing upon his neck, and he sneered. “What's that on your neck, Englishman? Have you had an accident?”  
  
Daniel coloured, slapping his hand over the bruises much too late. The sheriff laughed, an ugly, mirthless sound that echoed in the hall over and over again.  
  
“And here I was wondering why the baron would have hired a foreigner,” the man said, smiling coldly. “You are nothing but a common rent boy, aren't you? Caretaker, don't make me laugh. You're no doubt hired just to fulfil the old bastard's perversions.”  
  
“Get out,” Daniel hissed. His hands had balled into fists without him noticing, and there was a strange ringing in his ears. He stepped closer to the sheriff, his legs moving as if on their own. The sheriff didn't back down, merely straightening into his full height. He wasn't any taller than Daniel, but he was definitely more built; a man who had spent his entire life in physical labour.  
  
“Or what? You may have the outrider's sympathies on your side, but I am not as easily charmed.”  
  
The brunette heard two pairs of feet running across the wet courtyard, and a while later the other two men had re-entered the castle. They didn't seem surprised to find the sheriff and Daniel practically at each other's throats.  
  
One of the men saluted. “Nothing to report, sir!”  
  
The sheriff nodded. “The old cellar, then. Gentlemen, follow me.”  
  
“You have no right to search the castle!” Daniel yelled, realising too late that he had never locked the door to the dungeon again after the last time he'd ventured down there. He only barely managed to stop himself from grabbing the sheriff again; he had a nasty feeling the other two who had come with the man would only try to subdue him.  
  
The sheriff and his men ignored him and went for the cellar door. Daniel followed suit, legs trembling from either rage or fear, he couldn't tell which.  
  
“See, gentlemen, this castle used to host the town prison once upon a time. Criminals used to be brought here for confinement, and sometimes, even punishment, right to this very cellar,” the sheriff said, pulling open the door. He glanced at Daniel, grinning. “Is that not right, sir?”  
  
“It's not safe to go there,” Daniel responded, his tone icy. “There is a serious risk of cave ins should you proceed any further.”  
  
“What a clever ruse to keep outsiders from entering.”  
  
The sheriff went down the stairs without pausing to look behind himself. One of the men paused to light a torch he'd been holding and he held it up high, lighting their path. The sheriff's eyes fell on the rubble blocking the old corridor, and a couple more pebbles rained down from the ceiling, making a hollow sound as they skittered across the dirt-strewn floor.  
  
“My, it appears our kind host here was right,” the sheriff said softly. He poked the old sign on the floor with his boot.  
  
“Certainly I was,” Daniel told him. He stepped in front of the sheriff, fingers tangling around his upper arm. “Get out now, before the ceiling collapses on us and you get us all killed.”  
  
The sheriff slapped his hand away, eyes flashing. “No one is asking you to follow us.”  
  
“You will not enter my lord's domain without my permission!”  
  
His voice echoed sharply in the enclosed space, causing sand to trickle down from the ceiling. The other two men looked around nervously, quite lacking their leader's bravado. The sheriff attempted to storm further into the cellar but Daniel stepped in front of him again and punched him full in the face. The sheriff staggered backwards and spat blood on the floor, his nose bleeding copiously; his companions seemed too stunned to move. The sheriff snarled, wiping off blood, and pushed the Englishman against a wall. Daniel tried to push him off and for a while they scuffled aimlessly, their furious faces inches from one another.  
  
“I have the duke's permission to search the castle, and there will be consequences if you will not co-operate!” the sheriff yelled, flecks of spit and blood flying from his mouth. He looked just as angry as Daniel felt.  
  
“The duke has no claim over Brennenburg!” Daniel shouted back, giving him a rough shove and the man lost his balance momentarily. “You will get out and you will get out immediately!”  
  
“You are sadly mistaken if you think we're going anywhere——“  
  
There was a quiet rattling sound as more small stones clattered on the floor.  
  
“Sir, maybe we should listen to him—,“ one of the men begun, but the sheriff shot him such a sharp glare that he didn't finish the sentence.  
  
“We are not going anywhere, do you hear me? We are under official orders from the duke Hohenzollern and—“  
  
They all fell silent suddenly when more sand, dirt and stones fell from the ceiling. It ceased for a moment, then more dirt came raining down, much more violently this time, and the whole floor quaked. One of the men yelled, panic-stricken, dropping the torch.  
  
“Out! The ceiling's collapsing!”  
  
They barely made it; there was a terrible sound of stone grinding against stone as they ran up the stairs, and glancing over his shoulder Daniel saw only countless tonnes of sand and dirt flooding the spot they'd occupied moments ago. With a wail like the castle itself screeching in agony the corridor collapsed, taking parts of the wall with it, raining stone and pieces of wood everywhere. They all backed away as fast they could, very narrowly avoiding the debris that ran all over the floor. Daniel glanced up; it seemed the collapse had taken one of the upper parlours with it, it being the only one that had been built directly above the cellar.  
  
“Look at what you've done!” he hissed at the three men, covering behind him. “I told you the cellar was dangerous!”  
  
“If you hadn't resisted—“  
  
“Like hell I'm going to let you do as you please in my lord's castle!”  
  
The sheriff opened his mouth to reply but just then a door upstairs slammed open, and they all looked up. The door to the right wing stood open, and Alexander peered down at scene in the hall. His eyes swept over the chaos, narrowing as he took in the three strangers.  
  
“What on earth is this all about?” he asked, voice treacherously smooth.  
  
“At last, the baron himself graces us with his appearance,” the sheriff said, a tight smile on his lips. His manner remained unchanged from before, but Daniel saw his posture tense at the sight of the baron. The other men shifted nervously, backing towards the door.  
  
“'Tis the sheriff and his men, sent by the duke as you discussed. He decided in his great wisdom to ignore my warnings about the cellar, and look at what he's done now,” the brunette supplied. He glared at the sheriff, quivering with barely controlled anger.  
  
Alexander stepped closer, keeping firmly to the area where daylight, however feeble, could not reach him. Even at such a distance the aura around him was palpable, and Daniel wouldn't have been surprised to see sparks fly out of his eyes. “The sheriff has a lot of daring to disturb us thus. He has overstepped his boundaries and caused great harm to my estate.”  
  
“Indeed he has,” Daniel agreed, his voice cold. The sheriff's hands betrayed the slightest tremble as he fought not to quail underneath Alexander's gaze.  
  
“It would be wise, I believe, for the sheriff to take his men and leave at once,” Alexander said. His voice had taken a dangerous edge to it, and though he never once raised his voice Daniel was sure everyone in the room had heard him perfectly well. “He will return to the village and let the outrider know about what has been done here, and have him send his men to clean up this mess. He will do this, or there shall be repercussions.”  
  
“Repercussions, your lordship?” the sheriff asked stiffly.  
  
“Your power does not exceed mine, even if you are acting upon his Grace's command,” Alexander told him quietly. “I hold the highest seat of power in this region – and I do not need a prison to punish wrongdoers on my own lands.”  
  
The sheriff swallowed, finally breaking the eye contact with the baron. He looked at his two companions and nodded, and they left without another word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not gonna lie, I wanted to punch the sheriff myself while writing this chapter, so I let Daniel have that pleasure for me. The sheriff is a nasty piece of work, I can tell you guys that much. However, I'm very glad I had the chance to write a little bit about the relationship between Alexander and his wife after all this time - as much as I want to be a romantic and write it as a happy marriage, that was no guarantee back in those days, and Alexander is a flawed man in many ways. Immortality is not kind to those with regrets, and Alexander practically carries a mountain of guilt upon his shoulders.
> 
> Anyway! Sorry for the delay, guys! I wanted to have this chapter posted yesterday but I've been pretty wiped out recently, lots of sleeping/anxiety problems and all that jazz, and it's making me crazy tired. Too tired to even open a website and post something, apparently... *sweatdrops* I'll try to have the next chapter out by next Monday! The holidays are a-coming and you know it makes everything a bit messy. ^^;


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'What if our hard work ends in despair?  
> What if the road won't take me there?  
> Oh, I wish, for once, we could stay gold  
> What if to love and be loved is not enough?  
> What if I fall and can't bear to get up?  
> Oh, I wish, for once, we could stay gold'
> 
> First Aid Kit – Stay Gold

_October 1941_

“What a mess,” Alexander said, stepping over the rubble as he inspected the damage to the entrance hall. Evening had fallen at last, allowing him to leave the confinement of his chambers.

Daniel kicked a stray rock, causing it to fly across the floor and ricochet into another direction as it hit the wall at full speed. Part of his anger had subsided, but his blood was still boiling from the earlier encounter. The hand he had used to punch the sheriff ached dully. He hadn't felt any pain on it earlier; it had only started hurting afterwards. The sheriff and his two escorts had ridden away from Brennenburg and Daniel had locked the gates after them, ensuring they could not return as easily.  
  
“How dare they,” Daniel breathed. His hands shook even as he thought about what had transpired earlier. “How _dare_ they.”  
  
He remembered the sheriff's face as they'd argued. _Rent boy_ , sneered the sheriff's face in his mind, and Daniel felt like punching something again.  
  
“The duke will hear about this,” the baron said. “I will bring this incident to the attention of the Order.” He stood in front of what had been the doorway leading to the cellar, now covered in rocks and splintered wood. The destroyed parlour was only half-attached to the rest of the wing now, its doorway leading into nothingness.  
  
“I'm sorry for letting them enter the castle. I should have known better,” Daniel started, but the baron lifted his hand and he fell silent.  
  
“It would have seemed suspicious if you hadn't let them in. I do not blame you, Daniel, so do not blame yourself, either.”  
  
Daniel sighed. “What shall we do now? Surely, the right wing won't stay stable after this.”  
  
“It lies on firm foundation. It will hold.” The baron turned around to face him, his expression surprisingly calm. “We will need to commission a stonemason to have as much of the damage fixed as possible, but I don't lament losing the cellar. It was unstable to begin with.”  
  
“I thought you just said that to keep me out of there initially.”  
  
“Well, that, too. I did mean what I said, however; the cellar had fallen into a state of decay over the past few decades or so. It was only a matter of time before it collapsed.”  
  
Daniel sighed. “I shall arrange a journey to Altstadt and hire some men for repairs. I'll make arrangements with the outrider as soon as he comes for a visit.”  
  
Alexander nodded. “I will make sure you'll have the funds you need. Come and join me for a drink in the study. I daresay you need it.”  
  
The Englishman agreed. He pulled out the master key and locked the front door, a necessary safety measure if he wished for any peace of mind that night. Alexander took him by the arm and led him into the library, away from the devastation.  
  
Daniel had to admit that wine worked like magic on his nerves; an hour later he lounged in his seat in front of the fireplace, lost in thought.  
  
“The duke has a lot of nerve if the orders came directly from him,” Daniel muttered. He held up his glass, enchanted by the firelight dancing in the liquid.  
  
“I doubt he has given the command to inspect us. It seems too rash for his style.”  
  
“Do you think the sheriff's acting on his own?”  
  
“It seems likely,” Alexander mused. “There has been a certain amount of tension amongst the townspeople concerning Brennenburg for years. It seems the sheriff sympathises with their woes. Rest assured the Order will hear about this.”  
  
“Why would the duke hire someone like that? Someone so… impulsive?”  
  
“His Grace can always claim the sheriff acted on his own and pretend to punish him for it. A disobedient servant cannot tarnish the reputation of someone of his standing when he can make a show of pretending to side with me publicly and thus gain the sympathies of the Order.”  
  
“So it's just theatre?”  
  
“I assume so. To excel in the high society one must be a good actor, and he has been raised to this role.”  
  
Daniel shook his head in distaste. He recalled the mutterings of the people when he'd ventured to Altstadt for the first time but it had seemed unimportant at the time; a childish display of displeasure towards the upper class. The sheriff had clearly taken the locals more seriously, Daniel thought darkly, either on his own or upon the duke's orders. The outrider would have never stood for such plans, his trust in the baron unwavering, and Daniel doubted the sheriff had even shared his thoughts with him in this matter. Surely it would have been pointless; it could only have roused resistance among those who sided with Gabriel.  
  
Daniel ran his fingers over his neck absent-mindedly, trying to organise his thoughts. The bite marks were still tender and he winced when he accidentally touched them. _Rent boy,_ the sheriff's voice echoed in his head again. His hands shook with sudden fury and he slammed the glass on the table before he could spill wine all over himself.

“Is something the matter?”  
  
The baron was looking at him inquiringly. Daniel shook his head.  
  
“Nothing.”  
  
Alexander quirked an eyebrow. “Your _nothing_ s are never very convincing, Daniel. What happened with the sheriff?”  
  
“You mean besides him destroying half of your domain?”  
  
“What did he say to you?” the baron asked pointedly. “You have been very irritable all evening.”  
  
The brunette bit his lip, trying his damnedest to avoid the other's gaze. “He was just being offensive, that's all.”  
  
“Offensive how?”  
  
“He...”  
  
“Yes?”  
  
Daniel opened his mouth, then closed it again. He could feel his face colouring at the sheriff's words even now, when the man wasn't anywhere nearby, and Alexander continued to stare at him expectantly.  
  
“Daniel,” the baron repeated. “What did he say to you?”  
  
“He called me your rent boy,” the brunette muttered without meeting the elder's eyes.  
  
There was a nasty silence, broken suddenly by the sound of shattering glass. When Daniel looked up he found the glass Alexander had been holding in pieces on the floor, dark liquid staining the carpet.  
  
“He _what_?”  
  
The baron's voice had dropped by an octave. He looked angrier than Daniel had ever seen him, eyes narrowed and nostrils flaring as though about to start breathing fire, and it took all of the Englishman's self-control not to recoil from him.  
  
“He saw the marks on my neck. I… I think he realised that we...” Daniel couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence.  
  
“That man knows nothing,” the baron spat. “Nothing, do you hear me?”  
  
Daniel didn't answer. His eyes were fixated on the fire blazing in the fireplace, mind a blur of thoughts and emotions. He saw movement from the corner of his eye and a moment later Alexander was standing in front of him. The elder knelt down, forcing Daniel to look at him.  
  
“He knows nothing about us, my love. Do not give him the satisfaction of making you feel ashamed.”  
  
“I won't,” the brunette said quietly. Alexander kissed him once, claiming his lips rather more roughly than usual.  
  
“That's my boy.”  


* * *

  
The outrider arrived the next morning, flanked by a dozen men. Daniel recognised almost all of them from their search party several months previously, and some waved at him in greeting. Gabriel looked more sombre than the brunette had ever seen him as he slid down from the saddle. His expression darkened as Daniel led them into the entrance hall, and some of the men gasped audibly at the sight in front of them.  
  
“My sincerest apologies, Daniel,” Gabriel said. “I would have ridden out with the sheriff and his men had I known about his plans.”  
  
“It's not your fault, Gabriel. Don't blame yourself so.”  
  
The outrider sighed. “How's the baron?”  
  
“Quite shaken after yesterday's events, I'm afraid. He's resting right now.”  
  
“We'll do our best to help fix this mess,” one of them supplied, walking closer to them. “That sheriff's a bloody disgrace to our town.”  
  
“He's been eager to rouse aggression towards the baron since his arrival,” another man grunted, crossing his arms. “I know people always spout nonsense about their betters, but this...”  
  
Gabriel nodded, his mouth drawn into a tight line. “The baron has always been generous with his patronage and has kept our taxes reasonable. It has helped the town thrive.”  
  
There was a great deal of muttering about the sheriff's tactics as they all set to work, hauling rocks and pieces of wood and broken furniture out of the way. They couldn't do all that much with so few hands but it improved Daniel's spirits to see the rubble cleared out of the way. The place where the door to the cellar had stood had been reduced into a pile of rocks. They all decided as one man that the best course of action would be to leave the collapsed area as it was and to simply build a new wall from it, using the rubble as foundation.  
  
They were all drenched in sweat by the time they were finished, most of the debris loaded into a pair of wagons the men had brought with them. Daniel mopped his brow, trying to catch his breath. “This mess is finally starting to look manageable,” he told the outrider.  
  
“It's not much, but at least you won't be tripping over the debris all the time.”  
  
“It's a good start,” the Englishman said. “Are there any stonemasons in the village that we could turn to for the actual repairs? We can hardly leave the hall like this.”  
  
“There is a master mason in town who has a goodly number of journeymen. Might need to send a word to other towns for more hands if it's something of this scale, however.”  
  
Daniel nodded. “I hate to bother you further, but could you arrange me a ride to town? I'd like to talk to the master in person as soon as possible.”  
  
“Don't worry about it, I'll send the carriage to pick you up in a day or two. God knows the worst of this needs to be fixed before winter or you'll both freeze to death.”  


* * *

  
Two days later Daniel found himself sitting in the carriage, blearily watching the scenery flash by. It was still early; he'd barely had the time to break his fast before the driver had shown up. The drizzle from the past few days had finally died down, making way for a murky, overcast sky that hinted heavily that more rain would be on the way. Leaves had scattered from their trees in many places and made the road slippery, and the carriage drove more slowly than usual down the hill.  
  
Alexander had written down a lengthy note for the stonemason, detailing the damages that needed fixing. The note was now safely folded in the brunette's pocket, and the small bundle of clothes and other personal belongings had brought along contained a heavy bag of money to be given to the stonemason. Daniel shuddered to think how much it would cost to repair the gaping hole in the ceiling and build a new wall from nothingness; he'd simply refused to open the bag and see how much was in it.  
  
It took a greater part of the morning for them to reach the town, and when the carriage came to a halt in front of Der Mühle, the town's inn, Daniel was famished. He thanked the driver and hastened to carry his belongings inside, quite eager to unpack and get something to eat.  
  
“Mister Daniel,” called the inn's matron behind her desk as he entered the building. She was a portly, maternal sort of woman with greying hair and dimples, and she seemed to be everywhere at once. She beckoned to him and Daniel smiled in return, walking to the desk. “Gabriel informed us that you'd be coming today. There's a room available for you – we assumed you'd need to stay the night.”  
  
“That's very kind of you, madam,” Daniel said, taken aback.  
  
“It's room 6, dear, everything's ready for you,” she said, pressing a key in his hands. “Come down for lunch if you're hungry, we'll be serving in a moment.”  
  
“Thank you.” He pocketed the key and glanced around briefly. The dining area was almost empty apart from a group of workers. He turned back to the matron. “Did Gabriel mention why I'm here?” he asked hesitantly, lowering his voice.  
  
The lady leaned closer, speaking quietly as she replied. “He told us what had happened. Be very careful, Daniel. The sheriff has a nasty sort of temper. Run your errands, but avoid him if you can.”  
  
“I'll see what I can do, madam.”  
  
She patted his hand clumsily in what was evidently meant to be a reassuring gesture. “Now be a dear and get your things upstairs. I'll arrange some food for you when you come back down.”  
  
The outrider came to find him as he was eating, and after a slightly rushed lunch they headed into town together, Gabriel in the lead. The stonemason's house was at the very edge of the town, further away than Daniel had ever been, and the walk alone took its own time. The discussions took even longer; the man read Alexander's note, his frown becoming more and more prominent the further he went. He had Daniel sit down and draw him some quick sketches to better illustrate the damages to the entrance hall, and it was already late in the afternoon when they shook hands in goodbye, having reached an agreement. Daniel pocketed the stonemason's reply, letting the outrider take the lead once more. His pockets felt considerably lighter now.  
  
“I'm surprised he didn't refuse,” Daniel said as they walked back towards the town centre. “It'll be a lot of work for anyone, no matter how skilled.”  
  
“There's no need to worry about that. He's a professional through and through,” the outrider reassured him.  
  
To Daniel's relief there had been no sign of the sheriff all day; he thought he'd seen a glimpse of the other two who had visited Brennenburg with the sheriff, but not a single person approached him. The only people who paid any attention to him were some of Gabriel's men, all of whom greeted him jovially as he navigated the streets past shops and market stalls. Halfway along the way he realised where he was, eyes falling on the seamstress' shop across the street.  
  
“You know what, I should probably pay her a visit,” he said thoughtfully. “She's been very helpful, after all.”  
  
“You do that, but don't stay out too long.”  
  
“I won't, Gabriel. I just want to greet her out of courtesy.”  
  
_And who knows,_ Daniel thought to himself, _perhaps she_ _has_ _a replacement for that hat I lost at the duke's party.  
  
_ The seamstress leaped from her seat upon noticing him, abandoning whatever it was that she'd been working on. Daniel didn't have the heart to tell her no when she suggested – or rather, insisted – that they have a cup of tea, and found himself seated next to her as she fussed around with the tea, absolutely refusing any offers for help that he made. She wasted no time lecturing him about how his clothes hung around his skinny frame or that the belt he wore was creasing his waistcoat something horrible, and it was only sometime after that he managed to interrupt her for long enough to ask her about hats. She laughed at him when he told her about the fiasco of a party that had cost him his hat; at the end of it she was wiping tears off her eyes.  
  
“I am no hatter, I'm afraid,” she chortled as Daniel looked around sheepishly, face still burning with embarrassment. “You might have to visit a bigger town to order a replacement.”  
  
“I was afraid you were going to say that,” he sighed. She laughed again.  
  
“I could never have imagined you'd be so careless with your belongings, sir,” she teased. “If you behave like this everytime a pretty skirt passes by, you'll lose your own head next.”  
  
He took another sip of his tea, determinedly avoiding her eye.

He lingered in her shop far longer than planned, quite enjoying himself despite the seamstress poking fun at him every now and then. She was most curious to hear about how the summer had been up in the castle, and practically glowed with satisfaction when Daniel told her he'd worn her outfit at the duke's latest gathering. At the mention of the sheriff's visit to the castle she puffed up angrily, slamming down her cup on the saucer with a ringing sound.  
  
“He's a horrid man, that sheriff,” she huffed. “Whatever rumours there were about the good baron before his arrival, well, he's just made sure to fuel them with his sharp tongue. Gossiping about your betters like that, I swear...”  
  
“Gabriel doesn't seem to think much of it, either.”  
  
“Sensible people brush off the sheriff's talk as fear-mongering, but there are some who are easily convinced. I ask them, 'who do you think we owe it to that our taxes are lower than those of the neighbouring towns?', and they go all red in the face and mutter some nonsense about bad crops and dead cattle.”  
  
Daniel pursed his lips, the cup and saucer in his hands rattling. It was infuriating to hear all this; the concern over the missing people might have been valid, yes, but to blame all their misfortunes on Alexander... The seamstress looked at him sympathetically.  
  
“Don't take it so hard, sir,” she said, her tone softer now. “The sheriff's leaving in a month or so. There are no travellers in the middle of winter, anyway, and with any luck he won't be back until March. If it snows like it did last winter, the roads won't be accessible for a good long while.”  
  
It was a comforting thought, Daniel surmised, and they drank the rest of their tea while chatting about more pleasant topics. When she finally waved him out of her shop it had gotten dark, and the main streets of the town were now lined with wavering lantern light. A light drizzle had begun falling again, and the lanterns smoked copiously in the humid air. The smell made him think longingly of food and there was a new spring to his step as he hurried towards the inn, all thoughts on late supper and a warm bed.  
  
“Well, well,” came a drawling voice from the dark street, startling him out of his thoughts. “Look who it is.”  
  
Daniel stopped dead on his tracks. On the road to his right stood the sheriff, leaning against the corner of a building. His lips were pulled back to a sneer, and even in the dim light the brunette could clearly see that his nose was still purplish and swollen.  
  
“To what do I owe this very late pleasure, sir?” Daniel asked coolly. He didn't step any closer to the man, remembering the matron's warnings, and the sheriff didn't move from his spot, either.  
  
“I could ask you the same,” the sheriff said. “You should be indoors like all proper folk. Going out at night should be avoided in these troubling times.”  
  
“I was not aware that there's a curfew.”  
  
“There isn't,” the sheriff nodded. “But I heavily advice the townspeople to stay indoors for their own good, if you know what I mean.”  
  
Daniel's hands balled into fists, but he managed to stop himself from advancing him. “Are you threatening me, sir?”  
  
The sheriff's eyes gleamed in the flickering light, and he smirked. “Why, yes, I do believe I am.”  
  
“That's most unfortunate. You will find that I am not that easily swayed by the threats of lesser men,” Daniel said coldly.  
  
“No, I have noticed that much already. I'd expect nothing less from the baron's bloodhound.” The sheriff raised his hand, and suddenly a group of men materialised from the shadowy street behind him. “Or should I say, the baron's _bitch_?”  
  
It took Daniel only the fragment of a second to catch on to the sheriff's intentions and he backed away hastily, glancing around for a fast way out, but the streets were deserted and the inn was still an entire block away. He made a run for it, but it felt like he'd only taken two steps before someone's knee made contact with his stomach and he keeled over, momentarily stunned by the pain. He fell to the ground, and it was enough to give his pursuers the time to close in on him and block his path. Daniel tried to push himself up as fast as possible but someone aimed a sharp kick at his belly, two, three times in a row, and he collapsed again, gasping for air.  
  
Slow footsteps circled around him, and he heard the sheriff speak up again, his tone as light as though they were discussing the weather. “I wanted to thank you for the last time,” Daniel heard him say. “I always thought you Englishmen didn't have enough spine to fight back; all empty words and no stomach to act upon them. Not you, though. Not you.”  
  
“What a gracious compliment, _sir_ ,” Daniel spat, glaring up at him.  
  
“Ever so polite, even on all fours. I can see why the baron keeps you around – he makes a pretty picture like this, doesn't he?” the sheriff asked, and the men laughed raucously.  
  
Daniel let out an enraged sound and scrambled to get up, but he was pushed down almost immediately, a fist slamming against his temple. Another kick landed against his ribs, then another, and yet another, and he heard the sheriff laughing on the background.  
  
“Couldn't ask for a better servant. He goes down so obediently.”  
  
Anger pulsed in his veins but there was little Daniel could do to fight back; the men were too many, much stronger than he was, clearly the sort of people who'd spent their entire lives in physical labour on the fields. What little blows he managed to land on his captors were returned tenfold, his flailing limbs subdued by rough hands as someone continued to kick at and beat his torso with fists and knees. A particularly strong slam against his back forced all air out of his lungs and he felt himself falling to the pavement again, light-headed as his brain cried for air, but the men didn't relent.  
  
After what felt like an eternity the men around him stepped back, and someone knelt at his head. The man grabbed a fistful of his hair, lifting his head forcefully, and Daniel found the sheriff's face hovering right in front of his. The man was smiling sardonically.  
  
“Hurts, doesn't it?” he said softly. Daniel didn't answer; the pain in his scalp was making his eyes water. There was nothing more he wanted to say, and in one final act of defiance he spat directly on the sheriff's face. The man grunted and slapped him across the face, and for a while Daniel saw nothing but white light. He was only half-aware of being let go, and he'd barely hit the pavement when someone had already kicked him in the chest, leaving him breathless once more.  
  
“Ungrateful son-of-a-bitch,” the sheriff growled. Another kick landed on his side, followed by several more. Daniel couldn't tell how long it went on – he thought he would surely faint, the pain on his sides and in his gut spiking to such intensity that his mind seemed unwilling to handle it. The men never allowed him enough respite to let him catch his breath, let alone attempt to get up and defend himself, and he could only lie down on the cold ground, moisture seeping in through his clothes and right into his very bones.  
  
“Filthy dog!”  
  
“Baron's bitch!”  
  
“We'll show you what we think about the likes of you!”  
  
Daniel coughed, tasting blood. Surely he would die like this, cold and beaten raw on some miserable alley without anyone coming to his rescue. He'd felt like this before when he had been but a boy, but then it had been just Henry, one stupid school bully against him, and not a gang of grown-up men, and he had fought his way out of it, bruised and bleeding but alive. _This isn't how I wanted to die,_ he though hazily, his thoughts on Alexander. Then something hit him on the head and he thought of nothing but blackness, all feeling fading away.  
  
He couldn't tell whether it had been hours or just a minute but the next thing he was aware of was the sound of someone familiar shouting his name, and the chilling rain falling on his aching body. Blood trickled slowly into his open mouth, and he realised his nose was bleeding.  
  
“What the hell are you doing?” a voice shrieked.  
  
Daniel heard someone grunt something, and there was the sound of running footsteps, retreating from where he lay. He felt himself shivering, but he had no energy to get up, no energy for anything besides lying on his side, legs drawn up to shield his torso.  
  
“Get back here!”  
  
“They've beaten up someone, Gabriel, look—“  
  
Someone gasped audibly. “It's the baron's caretaker!”  
  
Suddenly there was someone kneeling by his side, shaking him. He moaned softly in response, but didn't open his eyes. Breathing was agony; his bones felt like they were on fire. The person shook him harder, repeating his name. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt…  
  
“Daniel!” came the outrider's voice. “Daniel, stay with me!”  
  
“Is he alive?”  
  
“Yes, but he's hurt. We must get him inside _now._ ”  
  
“I'll go rouse the nurse,” a female voice said, and Daniel heard someone hurrying across the square as fast as they could. There was more collective noise; there seemed to be more people gathering around.  
  
“Do we dare lift him?”  
  
“We have to, if we want to get him out of the rain,” Gabriel replied grimly. He placed a consoling hand on Daniel's shoulder. “Sorry, mate. This will probably hurt.”  
  
It did; Daniel could only grind his teeth as he was lifted off the ground, his body crying for mercy even at the smallest of movements. He couldn't tell where they were taking him – he didn't have the strength to open his eyes. Everything around him was just a confusing cacophony of noises, people yelling, doors being slammed open, footsteps, and everywhere rain, rain, rain, falling so hard that even the raindrops hurt as they fell on him. At least he was taken somewhere indoors, and a sudden wave of warmth greeted him. He felt himself being lowered on something soft, a bed, he assumed. His head throbbed sickeningly, and a particularly strong wave of nausea forced him to lean over the edge of the bed and vomit straight on the floor. Daniel collapsed back on the bed, his mouth tasting like bile and blood.  
  
“Oh my god, is that blood?”  
  
“Get the nurse here, now!” the outrider barked.  
  
“She's on her way, sir!”  
  
“Someone needs to inform the baron—“  
  
“I'll go, sir, I'll ride up to the castle at once!”  
  
“Get going, then, and don't just stand there!”  
  
Daniel coughed again; his lungs felt like they were filled with liquid, preventing him from drawing breath. He couldn't stop shivering despite the warmth of the room he was in, and his extremes felt icy cold as though he had been hoisted from the sea.  
  
“We need dry clothes from him,” a concerned voice that Daniel vaguely recognised as the matron's said.  
  
“The nurse has to inspect him first.”  
  
“He'll catch his death in those drenched clothes, Gabriel—“  
  
“I know, but I daren't move him until we know how badly hurt he is.”  
  
There was a grim silence. The matron sighed, and there was a scraping noise of something being dragged across the floor. “I'll clean up the mess,” she muttered as though to herself.  
  
Daniel felt the mattress dip and someone sat next to him. Breathing alone felt so laborious that he didn't even try to open his eyes, and it was a struggle to remain conscious.  
  
“Don't worry, Daniel,” the outrider said quietly, placing a hand on his shoulder again. “You'll be alright.”  
  
“Alexander...”  
  
“We've sent for the baron; I'm sure he'll come for you.”  
  
Daniel managed to nod wearily.  
  
“The sheriff has gone too far,” Gabriel continued. There was a sudden hard edge to his voice. “He won't get away with this. The baron will see to it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry to leave this chapter at such a cliffhanger and on Christmas week, no less! It's not very kind of me, really. ^^; Shit just got real, poor Daniel... I have to admit I have a weak stomach for violence and such so writing that scene was a struggle (the irony of my writing this story at all, seeing as I'm very hemophobic in reality, haha).
> 
> The next chapter will be up on Boxing Day, that is, the 26th! I know already the 24th and 25th are gonna be a mess with family dinners and the like so I doubt I'd have the time to be online for long enough to update, so the 26th it is. C: I don't know how many of you celebrate Christmas or something else this month, but to those of you who do, happy holidays! To the rest of you, happy end of the year in general! We're not Christian but a big family dinner is still a tradition for myself, my fiancée and her family on the 24th, so welp, full house again, I guess. Without further ado, see you guys in a week, and thanks for all your wonderful comments once again, they keep my motivation burning bright! <3


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'I long for you, Aquarius  
> I need to be with you again  
> I fear you, Aquarius  
> My destiny till the end'
> 
> Within Temptation – Aquarius

_October 1841_

He had no perception of time. At some point the nurse must have come and inspected him, he knew that much; he was dressed in dry clothes for one, and there was an acrid taste in his mouth that spoke of some kind of a medicine he must have been fed. He had no recollection of when all this had happened, however. The last thing he recalled clearly was the outrider telling him they'd sent someone to Alexander – all else was just noise and movement that he was too exhausted to focus on.  
  
The pain was still there, but it felt somehow muted. Daniel inhaled slowly, his sides aching with each breath he took. He didn't dare open his eyes. The room around him felt like it was swaying slowly, and for a while he thought he must be back on S/S Hortensia, sailing home towards England. Then his head cleared and he remembered the sheriff's face in the dark, the cold, damp pavement and the chilling rain, and he cursed himself for not returning to the inn sooner.  
  
He drifted in and out of consciousness for a long time. It was impossible to tell what time it was. Sometimes he was nearly awake and heard quiet voices talking somewhere nearby, and sometimes he didn't think or feel anything for a long time. He was only barely aware of people coming and going, and once he thought he felt a hand touch his forehead briefly, but he hadn't the energy to open his eyes and see who it was.  
  
Hushed, urgent conversation drifted into his ears; Daniel tried to shut out the noise, willing himself to sink once more into the waiting arms of sleep. He felt so irresistibly drowsy, so tired that he was surely dying, slowly bleeding out until there was nothing left to keep his heart beating… But just then a door slammed open somewhere nearby, loud enough for the noise to pierce through the haze of sleep.  
  
“Your lordship!” someone gasped audibly. “Thank goodness you've arrived!”  
  
“Where is he?”  
  
“Just over there, in the guest chamber. He's resting right now.”  
  
“May I?”  
  
“Of course, sir.”  
  
Daniel's eyes flew open; he knew that voice, he'd know that voice even at death's door. His heart beat faster, suddenly, and there was the unmistakeable echo of approaching footfalls. Moments later the door to his room opened and Alexander stepped in.  
  
“Alexander,” he rasped. His voice was so hoarse that he barely managed to speak. The baron shut the door after himself, his face ashen. Daniel lifted a shaking hand, reaching out for him, and Alexander rushed to his bedside, kneeling down on the floor. He took the younger man's hand between both of his own.  
  
For a while neither of them said anything. Daniel took in the dark circles underneath the elder's eyes, his pale visage, and realised that it must be drawing close to dawn already. Mutely, Alexander placed a kiss on the brunette's hand.  
  
“I was prepared for the worst,” the baron said quietly. Daniel could feel his hands tremble slightly.  
  
“I'm alive,” the brunette replied. He tried for a smile but even the muscles on his face felt tired and all he managed was a half-hearted grimace. Alexander's expression hardened.  
  
“Not thanks to the sheriff,” the elder ground out. “I'll have him flogged for this.”  
  
Daniel pulled his hand free and brought it up to touch Alexander's face instead. The vampyre's skin felt like fire against his own. “That won't undo his actions.”  
  
“No. But I will not let this go unpunished.”  
  
“I want to go home,” Daniel whispered. He hadn't so much as sat up, yet he felt entirely drained from conversing alone.  
  
“It's too close to the dawn. We'll have to wait until nightfall.”  
  
“Alright.”  
  
Alexnder touched his cheek lightly and got up. “The nurse will surely want to check up on you. Try to rest, Daniel. I'll make sure we can return to the castle as soon as possible.”  
  
Daniel had no energy to answer. He gazed after the baron even after the door closed and left him quite alone in the small room. He heard Alexander exchange words with someone, but he couldn't bring himself to focus on what they were saying. He felt exhausted beyond belief, but his eyes refused to close, his mind much too full.  
  
Soon afterwards an elderly woman who introduced herself as the town nurse entered the room. She fed him some of the foul-tasting medicine again, making Daniel wrinkle his nose in distaste, before bustling off to get a fire going in the room. The fire helped a bit; at least he was able to stop shivering after a while.

He heard muffled yelling outside, and looking out of the window showed that despite it still being quite dark outside there were people gathering to the town square. Daniel squinted, trying to make out what was going on. He could only see blurred shapes moving on the dark and the sputtering flames of torches that some of the spectators seemed to be holding. His rescuers had taken him into a house not too far from the square but this room was above ground, making it hard to see anything that was happening.  
  
“They must have brought the sheriff,” the nurse said tartly, noticing what he was looking at. She got up and closed the curtains, visibly shuddering when someone yelled again.  
  
Daniel paid very little attention to her as she inspected his condition. He winced when she felt his ribs but didn't tell her to stop, too distracted. The crowd outside had fallen silent and he heard each blood-chilling crack of a whip as though he were witnessing the scene himself, every last strike followed by a man's strangled cry. The nurse started at each lash, her face very white.  
  
Daniel pictured the sheriff, on his knees on the cold, hard ground, tied to a pole, and the thought made him feel nothing whatsoever. He guessed he ought to have felt disgusted, but he had no will left in himself to pity the man. _I guess Alexander was serious about punishing him,_ he thought darkly. There was no pleasure in that thought, either. More than anything he felt infuriated that he hadn't been able to stand up for himself; that it was Alexander who had to step in and avenge him instead. _It should be me brandishing the whip and not him._ He imagined the sheriff crying for mercy as he rent bloody furrows in his skin, and something primal within him purred with satisfaction. If only it could have been him.  
  
The nurse went on a muttered tirade about well-deserved punishments and overstepping boundaries, making it unnecessary for Daniel to do more than nod his approval. She felt his sides and his belly through his clothes, tutting everytime he winced.  
  
“Broken ribs,” she declared finally. She gave his belly one more press and Daniel groaned loudly. “Something here feels swollen, too. I'm not sure what the baron is thinking, demanding that you should be taken back to Brennenburg in this condition...”  
  
“I _want_ to go back to the castle,” Daniel interrupted. “That was my idea.”  
  
“And a foolish one at that, I might add.” There was a concerned frown on her face as she looked at him. “If there's internal bleeding…”  
  
“Can't you just give me some medicine to take along?”  
  
“That's not going to help with the bleeding.”  
  
“There's nothing you can do about that here in the village, either,” he pointed out. She pursed her lips but didn't protest. “All I can do is rest and hope for recovery, madam. And I'd rather do so in Brennenburg.”  
  
She sighed in resignation. “If that's what you want.”  


* * *

  
The journey back to Brennenburg was anything but pleasant. Daniel had little memory of the day itself; he had been sleeping on and off, the medicine making him even sleepier, and it was only past sundown that the nurse came to rouse him. His things had been collected from the inn, packed together with his damp clothes and an assortment of medicine. He still felt achy all over, and it took two men to help him to his feet and lead him downstairs.  
  
The nurse accompanied them, a constant stream of instructions falling from her lips. Daniel vaguely registered that she was telling him to take the laudanum if he could not sleep, and another tonic day and night for the next two weeks or until he could walk unhindered. He didn't really hear her; as he was led out of the house his eyes fell on the whipping post erected in the middle of the square, ropes still wound around it as though in warning. Daniel shuddered, tearing his eyes from the menacing sight.  
  
“Here he comes, lord Baron, sir,” one of the men supporting him piped up. A carriage stood waiting in the square, Alexander hovering next to it with the outrider and the matron of the inn.  
  
“How is he?” the baron asked, turning to look at the nurse.  
  
“He really shouldn't be on his feet yet, your lordship,” she said with a sigh. “But he insists on returning to the castle.”  
  
“I'll be fine,” Daniel interrupted. “And besides, I'd rather recover in familiar surroundings.”  
  
The nurse shook her head, exasperated, but patted his cheek kindly nevertheless. “Be sure to take your medicine and _rest,_ do you understand?”  
  
“Yes, ma'am.”  
  
“Help him in the carriage first,” Alexander told the men supporting Daniel. Everyone gathered around stepped out of the way as the driver came forth, opened the door and unfolded the ladder, and the two men aided Daniel into the carriage, helping him on the seat before letting go of his arms. He groaned in relief as he sat down, the short walk having been more than enough to wind him out. A moment later the outrider had climbed in and sat down by his side.  
  
“I'll ride with you,” he said to the brunette. Daniel nodded. Only a little later Alexander, too, had climbed in and seated himself opposite of them. He eyed the brunette with no little amount of concern, his face more tired and lined than usual. Daniel guessed that he hadn't been able to rest much during the day, either out of worry or lack of a safe resting place or both.  
  
He was out of it almost the entire way to the castle, not quite awake, not quite asleep. Sitting felt uncomfortable, even though the medicine had dulled the worst of the pain. His entire middle felt too sore for the position and the carriage swayed this way and that, making his tired muscles cry for mercy. Daniel heard the baron and Gabriel make quiet conversation while he leaned back, pretending to rest. It was past midnight when they reached the gates and the horses pulled them as close to the entrance as possible before coming to a halt. Alexander got out first, aided by the driver, and Daniel followed suit, supported by Gabriel. He wasn't sure how the outrider managed both him and his baggage; try as he might his legs wouldn't support him fully, and most of his weight rested against the other man.  
  
It took the combined efforts of Gabriel and the driver to get him upstairs and all the way into his own room. Alexander walked in front of them, holding a candlestick, and what felt like an eternity of pain and exhaustion later Daniel found himself lying down on his bed.  
  
“That wasn't too bad, I hope,” the outrider quipped, trying for a smile. Daniel grimaced.  
  
“Speak for yourself, Gabriel. My ribs are crying for mercy.”  
  
“You'll be needing your medicine tonight, then, I daresay.”  
  
“More than likely,” he grunted, trying to find a more comfortable position.  
  
“Thank you ever so much for your help,” Alexander told the two men, shaking their hands briefly.  
  
“Will you manage on your own?” the driver asked, sounding troubled. “I don't mean to be rude, lord Baron, but you don't have any extra hands around in case he needs to be moved.”  
  
“We'll make do,” Daniel spoke up. “I'll rest as much as I can; there's hardly any need to worry.”  
  
“Could you have the nurse stop by in a couple of days to check in on his condition?”  
  
“Of course, lord Baron, sir.”  
  
“You take care now, Daniel. Don't get yourself into trouble,” Gabriel told him from the door. Daniel waved his hand airily, though the motion was enough to make him feel ill.  
  
The baron and the two men left, leaving him to rest. Daniel let his eyes slip closed, and all the aches he'd been trying to ignore along the way seemed to come back in a crashing wave of nausea. He wondered where Alexander had put the medicine the nurse had sent with them; he'd been too tired to pay attention to where his things had been placed. He groaned, hoping to God the elder would eventually return and hand him one of the bottles of laudanum before he threw up from the pain.  
  
It wasn't much afterwards that he heard the door to his quarters open again, and with soft footfalls Alexander approached his bedside, sitting down at the edge. Daniel felt him take his hand, lifting it to his lips and pressing a soft kiss on it. The brunette opened his eyes, slowly focusing on the figure next to him.  
  
“I'm sorry,” he said. Alexander squeezed his hand, letting it fall to his lap instead.  
  
“Why are you apologising?”  
  
“For making you worry. I should have known better.” Daniel bit his lip. “It was foolish of me not to expect that the sheriff would want revenge. I shouldn't have gone to the town at all.”  
  
“Don't you dare apologise in that man's stead. All of this was his doing, not yours.”  
  
Daniel took in the dark circles beneath the elder's eyes, his drained appearance. Even his lips appeared dry and chapped. “Where did you rest in town? The inn?”  
  
The baron nodded. “Are you in pain still?”  
  
“I… yes, if you must know,” Daniel admitted hesitantly.  
  
The baron shifted closer and reached out for his collar. His fingers started slowly working on the buttons of the shirt. There was a glint of steel in his eyes and Daniel didn't try to stop him as he unbuttoned the shirt all the way down, exposing his bruised chest and mid-section. Alexander examined the damage silently, his mouth drawn into a tight line.  
  
“Where does it hurt the most?” he asked without lifting his gaze from the younger man's torso.  
  
Daniel placed his hand over his belly. “Here, mostly. The nurse said something in there is swollen.” He moved his hand, gesturing at his sides vaguely. “And my ribs. They're quite sore.”  
  
Alexander nodded again. He lifted his hand and shook back his sleeve until his wrist was entirely exposed. “Come, take my blood. It'll help you recover.”  
  
The brunette watched, spellbound, as the baron brought his mouth to his wrist and bit, creating a wound. When the baron pulled back his lips were stained copiously with glistening blood, and despite the nausea rolling in his stomach Daniel felt himself robbed of breath. Alexander offered him his wrist and Daniel's fingers wound around it tightly, bringing his mouth to the open wound wordlessly. His eyes slipped closed again as he felt the vampyre's blood sliding into his mouth and dancing across his tongue and he drank without hesitation, all else around him becoming secondary.  
  
The dull ache in his limbs seemed to ebb away; the soreness of his ribs made way for a wonderful, all-consuming numbness that wiped off even the memory of pain. His arms and legs seemed as light as air, and his head was full, so full of chaotic movement and noise that it left no room for thought. Tangled within his pleasure he felt more than heard words reaching for him, soft, gentle words that spoke of such intense dread that it was nearly overwhelming. _My love_ , repeated a voice that was not his, over and over again. _My love; my love; my love._ The voice intertwined with his heartbeat as though it was rent from the speaker's very soul, and Daniel felt shaken to the core. He pressed the wound more tightly against his mouth, ever thirsty, but the voice cut across the stream of his consciousness, gently telling him to pull away.  
  
_No,_ _I don't want to,_ Daniel thought.  
  
_You've had enough, my love. Let go.  
  
_ Daniel frowned. The voice was so familiar. _  
  
Enough?  
  
Please pull away, now.  
  
_ Alexander. It was Alexander.  
  
_Of course it's me,_ the baron's voice answered within his mind. _Now let go.  
  
_ Daniel did. With an enormous wrench like surfacing from deep water his mouth let go of the baron's wrist, fingers unwinding around it. There was a heady tang of blood in his mouth, and the room around him seemed to be swimming in front of his eyes. He wondered why Alexander was almost face to face with him, and then he realised he was sitting up now, his middle no longer aching. Alexander was watching him intently, already pulling the sleeve over his still bleeding wrist.  
  
“How do you feel?” he asked. There was a strange flush upon his visage and Daniel swallowed, becoming painfully aware of how tight his trousers felt now. When had that happened? He tried to recall when exactly his body had chosen to ignore its injuries for the call of carnal pleasures, and his mind felt curiously blank.  
  
“Better. I'm… I'm not in pain anymore, at least,” Daniel managed after a while. He hated how breathless he sounded.  
  
“Lay back down,” the baron said. Daniel raised his eyebrows, a part of him wondering for a wild moment whether his current desires were shared by the elder, but Alexander didn't wait for his response before pushing him down against the pillows with a rough shove. The baron started undoing the fastenings of his trousers, pulling them down towards his knees.  
  
“What are you—“  
  
“Where did he touch you?” Alexander growled.  
  
“What?”  
  
“Where did he touch you?” The baron ran his hands across Daniel's chest, his sides, bending low to kiss his bruised stomach. The brunette squirmed, but Alexander didn't pull away. Daniel could feel his hands shaking. “I want to know exactly where that bastard touched you. Every single place, every each one of them.” He caressed the bruises running down the brunette's now exposed thighs, kissing each of them hungrily.  
  
“Alexander—“  
  
“What did he do to you? _Tell me!_ I can't stand the thought that he would have—“  
  
“He didn't!” Daniel cut across him, blushing as he realised what the elder was thinking. “He didn't… not like that. Not the way you think.”  
  
Alexander met his gaze, scanning his eyes frantically for some sign that the younger man was telling the truth. Finally, he sighed, pulling away from him. He was trembling visibly, and Daniel pushed himself into a sitting position.  
  
“He didn't touch me like that,” he told the elder quietly. “I swear, Alexander, he didn't.”  
  
Alexander didn't answer; he seemed too shaken for words. The Englishman moved closer and wrapped his arms around him, embracing him tightly. Slowly, the baron's arms snaked around him in return, his forehead coming to rest against Daniel's shoulder.  
  
“When they came to fetch me, telling me that you had been attacked...”  
  
Daniel held him tighter, pressing light kisses into his hair. Alexander let out a shuddering sigh, lifted his head and pulled the younger man into a series of breathless, demanding kisses. There was still a vivid tang of blood lingering in the baron's mouth that reminded Daniel of his current predicament; his flesh felt like it had been set on fire, and he wasn't quite willing to let it be extinguished so easily.  
  
The baron tried to kiss him again but Daniel pulled away, placing a finger on the other man's lips. He pressed their foreheads together, so close that he knew the elder could feel his breath still.

“Make love to me,” he whispered, and Alexander trembled against him. “Make love to me, and make me forget all about it.”  
  
And hours later, when a newfound soreness had crept back into his bones, Daniel thought no longer of the duke or the sheriff or anything that had happened in the village. Alexander's head rested against his chest as though listening to his heartbeat, their limbs tangled around one another.  
  
“How long is it until dawn?” the brunette mumbled.  
  
“Still at least four hours.”  
  
He hummed, contented. Alexander's skin was cool against his own and the drying sweat made him shiver slightly, but he felt no desire to vanish under covers and turn in for the night. The fire in the fireplace had turned into nothing but glowing embers; in this light Alexander was so pale that he almost seemed to emanate a light of his own.  
  
“Your hair never grows,” Daniel said. He twirled a lock of the elder's hair around his finger; soft as silk, and as white as virgin snow.  
  
“No. I'll always look the same as I did at the moment of my death.”  
  
“What if you try to cut it?”  
  
“It will just be the same again the next night.”  
  
“How peculiar.”  
  
“It would be the same for you, you know.” Alexander tilted back his head, looking at the younger man's face. His eyes seemed to wander from one feature to another, drinking in the sight of him so intensely that Daniel was starting to feel highly self-conscious. “Forever as you are, never changing.”  
  
Daniel chuckled, closing his eyes. “I suppose it wouldn't matter much, seeing as I wouldn't be able to see myself in the mirror any longer. I think I'd quite like that.”  
  
“Am I to take it that you do not care for your looks?”  
  
“Average-looking men rarely have a reason to, Alexander.”  
  
“I'd hardly call you average. Or haven't you noticed how the ladies crowd around you whenever we are invited somewhere?”  
  
“I thought it was just kindness,” Daniel said uncertainly.  
  
“My, I am hardly surprised that you haven't married,” the baron said, sounding amused. “Those girls weren't seeking your company just for polite conversation.”  
  
“You jest.”  
  
“Not at all. There is nothing wrong with your appearance, Daniel. You should carry yourself with more pride.”  
  
“More like you, you mean.”  
  
Alexander smirked, baring teeth. “An old man such as I has little else to impress with, if not his pride and his power.”  
  
“I don't know about that,” Daniel protested. He stroked the baron's cheek, carefully tracing the sharp edge of his cheek bone. “I find you quite comely still.”  
  
“I am sure your charming little friends would beg to differ.”  
  
“And that is just as well. As you may have noticed, I'm not much for sharing,” he said and kissed the baron once more, giving his lower lip a bite for good measure.  
  
Finally even the embers stopped glowing and died, but neither of them bothered to get up and get the fire going again. Daniel found himself dozing off eventually, with Alexander's naked form pressed against his back, his breath warm and comforting against the nape of his neck. A pale glow crept into the horizon as the hours marched inevitably towards a new dawn, and Daniel knew he'd wake up alone.  
  
He was only half-awake when Alexander stirred behind him and shifted closer to kiss his temple. Daniel just grunted sleepily, curling into a ball. He only vaguely registered the words the elder whispered in his ear before leaving the bed.  
  
“I love you.”  


* * *

  
The next day dawned as rainy as the ones before. Looking out on the grounds confirmed that the constant rainstorms had left the trees barren and leafless; it was as bleak as ever, and Daniel saw it as a sign from above to remain indoors. Thinking about the nurse and her strict instructions to rest roused a wave of guilt. He had a feeling that taking Alexander in his bed hardly counted as the sort of rest he ought to be having with his injuries, but though his ribs were still sore and his skin still covered in bruises, he didn't feel anywhere near as terrible as he'd done before. Whatever had been causing his stomach trouble wasn't sore to the touch now, and he found he was able to walk around unsupported without too many problems as long as he took it slowly.  
  
“I better take the medicine, though, or she'll have my hide if she does come to check up on me,” Daniel mumbled and downed the morning portion in one. He supposed it might be of some help – he could tell that Alexander's blood was a far better cure than any potion, but surely even it couldn't fix injuries overnight.  
  
He didn't bother putting on the clothes he'd been dressed in following the attack. They were an ill fit, tailored to fit someone both shorter and stockier than him, and he didn't have a clue whose they were in the first place. Looking at them made his skin crawl. The sheriff hadn't been alone; with his rotten luck the garments could even belong to one of the men who'd participated in beating him up. The thought made bile rise up to his throat, and Daniel tossed the clothes into a corner, making a mental note to burn them later.  
  
Rain continued to pound against the windows all day, and Daniel drank tea in the drawing room while waiting for bath water to heat up. Slipping in the tub felt heavenly. His bruised limbs sang their thanks as he lowered himself into the water, whatever aches that had accumulated in them over the course of the day melting away. He sank in all the way to his chin, and as an afterthought submerged himself entirely.  
  
_I suppose I shouldn't be washing my hair when it's this cold,_ he thought vaguely. But the water felt much too pleasant against his scalp, and the temptation of washing all traces of the attack off his body was all too compelling. He cleaned every inch of his body with more enthusiasm than normally, unable to resist the desire to scrub his bruised skin so hard that it stung. He thought back on Alexander's reaction the night before and flushed; he could understand all too well what had upset him now. The thought of having ever been touched by the sheriff, no matter where or with what intentions, made his ears ring with anger.  
  
_If he'd violated my body like that I would have killed him myself,_ Daniel thought, fingers clenching around the soapy cloth. _I swear I would have killed him, even if it had meant crawling out of that house on all fours.  
  
_ He hadn't bothered asking Alexander about what he'd done to the man; it was enough for him to know the sheriff had been made to suffer. A part of him wished the baron would have just killed him, but he knew he could hardly expect that when the duke's eye was already turned towards Brennenburg.  
  
“I wonder how long we'll be able to stay like this,” he thought out loud. The duke's suspicions, the sheriff, the tensions stirring in the town… Daniel could tell that sooner or later the duke would try to drive Alexander out into the open and cast him down for good. Whatever this game of theirs was, it was only to buy more time before the inevitable.  
  
The warm water had a soothing effect on his grim thoughts and Daniel leaned back in the tub, submerging himself all the way up to his neck again. Alexander had told him, once before, that he'd taken up different guises in the past centuries and re-emerged from time to time to reclaim Brennenburg to his name. Perhaps the baron would do something like that again when the suspicions against him turned too difficult to beat back.  
  
“Brennenburg isn't safe anymore. Sooner or later he'll have to flee.”  
  
He couldn't bring himself to be afraid any longer, not as he had been months before. The thought of leaving the castle saddened him, certainly – it had been a kind of sanctuary, a home, to his mourning heart after Hazel's passing. A home, he knew, that was only a home as long as Alexander was there with him. If the day came when he had to leave, then so be it. Daniel's mind was made up; he knew exactly where his place was when that day came.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been waiting all week to release this chapter, let me tell you that much! Waiting for the holiday fuzz to die down was a good idea, though, the weekend was every inch as tiring as I'd anticipated. I hope you guys had a good time and weren't as dead as I was! x_x
> 
> Alexander is a scary sort of person, isn't he? He has a habit of appearing so calm and collected on the outside (at least in the presence of people other than Daniel) at all times that the thought of him just losing it... well, it's quite terrifying, actually. I cannot blame him for his anger, though, the sheriff got what he deserved in this situation. I have to say I'm very much enjoying writing more about our dear baron and revealing more of his emotional side as we go, and this chapter was wonderful to write from that perspective. I hope it was as satisfying for you to read as it was for me to write (and for Daniel to experience, cough cough).
> 
> Thanks for all the comments and kudos and bookmarks once more, I really appreciate all of them! <3 The next chapter will be up on New Year's weekend, so see you guys soon and let me know what you thought about this chapter!
> 
> EDIT: I have to push back the next chapter until some point next week, I've fallen ill (AGAIN) and on the 1st day on the year, no less, and I feel pretty miserable at the moment. Sorry guys. u_u;;


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'And if I should die tomorrow  
> I'd go down with a smile on my face  
> I thank God I've ever known you  
> I fall down on my knees for all the love we've made.'
> 
> Céline Dion - Seduces Me

_November 1841_

It took almost two weeks for all of his aches to disappear entirely, and his bruises had turned an unpleasant mix of purple and yellow, still not quite gone from his skin. The chilly rains continued even as November came marching in and Daniel sat on the stairs leading to the entrance hall, shivering as he watched over the stonemasons at work day after day. The draft in the hall was especially terrible this late in the year; he knew the master and his men were working as fast as they could to block the hole in the ceiling and the wall, but the road to the castle wasn't the easiest and transporting all the tools and materials needed had taken their own time.  
  
The first few days the men had worked dawn till dusk to get their work underway. Alexander had emerged from his quarters at nightfall and conversed in subdued tones with the master mason, slipping him some extra coins for his troubles.  
  
“We're not going to get this finished by winter,” the master had said grimly. “I can already smell snow in the air, lord Baron, sir. We'll hurry as best as we can and get the ceiling repaired, but it might not be until spring before we can do something about the inner wall and the damages on the second floor.”  
  
“That is just as well. As long as it doesn't snow indoors I have no complaints.”  
  
Daniel agreed silently. Keeping the hall warm was a struggle even at the best of times, and stepping over puddles was starting to grate on his nerves. More than that he simply wished to see the men gone – having outsiders in the castle day after day was making him uncomfortable.  
  
They hadn't heard anything more of the sheriff since October. Gabriel had arrived with the local farmer and his goods at the turn of the month to inform them the sheriff had been called back before winter arrived. The outrider had still eyed Daniel with some concern. Despite the nurse visiting him and pronouncing his speedy recovery something of a miracle, Gabriel wasn't still entirely convinced he wouldn't collapse and start puking up blood out of nowhere. The Englishman couldn't really blame him for this – the amount of bruises on his body had been more than enough to tell him he had been in pretty bad shape after the beating.  
  
Daniel found that he walked with a slight limp even after his ribs had started healing and his legs carried him properly. It was mostly a source of annoyance to him rather a real worry. There was very little that he'd been able to do while recovering, mostly thanks to Alexander telling him off for trying to work before he was healed, and this new hindrance made moving heavier things difficult. It was only after he'd fallen down the stairs and nearly broken his neck while attempting to carry a toolbox with both hands that he accepted the cane Alexander had offered him.  
  
“You'll need something for support if your leg remains that way,” the baron had said pointedly, ignoring his protests and firmly pressing the cane in his hands.  
  
“I'm too young to be wearing a cane!”  
  
“This is not up for discussion. I won't have you injure yourself further by refusing help when you obviously need it.”  
  
And so Daniel tottered around Brennenburg with a cane in his hand, increasingly bad-tempered, muttering rude things about the duke and where he could stuff his stupid servants as he went.  


* * *

  
His leg ached particularly much after a long evening spent in the unused dining hall, fighting a losing battle against the dust that persisted there despite his many attempts at keeping the room clean. It was a depressing sight to watch himself from the tall mirrors. His bad leg simply would not cooperate, and Daniel hobbled forwards no matter how much he tried to exercise the stiffness out of it.  
  
“This is ridiculous,” he huffed to himself. He extinguished the candles in the dining room, took his cane and slowly made his way to the library for something more pleasant to do. The grandfather clock on the hallway chimed nine in the evening. Alexander hadn't yet emerged for the night and the brunette found the library wing empty and dressed in darkness as he entered. He spent a while tending to the fires and lighting candles, shivering slightly.  
  
With one last curse he placed the cane on a stool and carefully stretched his leg, knowing it wouldn't help much. He placed his hands in mid-air as though holding on to an imaginary partner and, much like months before, drifted off into a solitary dance in the empty hall.  
  
He tried to keep humming one of the melodies Alexander had taught him but kept fumbling with the steps and interrupting the song every once in a while. His wounded leg felt too stiff to land all the steps properly and it kept throwing him off-balance. After some twenty minutes he was sweating profusely, his mood worse than before, and he leaned against a bookcase in defeat.  
  
He was still trying to ease his breathing as the door to the library opened and the baron stepped in, fully dressed. Daniel knew he couldn't feel the cold as he did, but Alexander seemed to think it was appropriate to wear more as the weather grew colder.  
  
“Evening,” Daniel said, out of breath.  
  
“What have you been doing to exhaust yourself so?” the elder asked, eyes trailing from the abandoned cane to the sweatdrops on his forehead.  
  
“I wanted to see if some exercise would improve my leg. Doesn't look like it helped much.”  
  
“What did you do?”  
  
“Danced. I tried rehearsing some of the steps you taught me in the summer,” Daniel admitted. He could only barely stop himself from rolling his eyes at his own stupidity. “I'm not entirely sure I can lead any more if my leg remains this way.”  
  
“You shouldn't overexert yourself so.”  
  
“I know, but I'm frustrated. I cannot stand this idleness.”  
  
Alexander walked over to him and held out his hand. “Allow me. If it was help that you wanted, you only had to ask.”  
  
It was slow going. Even with a partner to help him keep his balance Daniel found his feet faltering, and he grit his teeth, trying to focus as best as he could. Alexander set them a tune to dance to, humming quietly, but there was nothing that could have distracted him from the sharp pain that shot up his bad leg everytime he tried to put his weight on it. He cursed under his breath as they spun around to change the direction of their dance and the baron stopped dead on his tracks, causing Daniel to bump into him.  
  
“What is it?”  
  
“That hurt,” Daniel muttered.  
  
“We should just stop if—“  
  
“No, we shouldn't,” he said firmly. “I want to try again. I'm sure it'll get better if I just keep going.”  
  
“Let me lead, then.” Without waiting for his agreement Alexander draped an arm around his waist, pulling him so close that they were almost pressed together. Daniel squirmed, but the elder wouldn't budge an inch.  
  
“I can't dance if we're pressed together like this.”  
  
“Certainly you can. Just let me lead and rest your weight against me.”  
  
“I can't,” Daniel protested. “It's humiliating.”  
  
Alexander raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And why is that?”  
  
“I don't need to… I'm not...” The baron inclined his head in questioning manner and Daniel faltered, dropping his gaze. He felt rather warm in the face as he mumbled, “I'm not a woman.”  
  
“I beg your pardon?”  
  
Daniel cleared his threat but didn't meet his eyes. “I don't want to be treated as a woman, Alexander. There's no need to mollycoddle me.”  
  
For once, the elder seemed stunned into silence. Daniel wished he would say something or at least let go; his arm was still around the brunette's waist, holding him in his grasp like a vice. Daniel guessed he must have said the wrong thing again and his face burned with embarrassment, and he tried to break free of Alexander's hold. The elder responded by pulling him even closer so that they were practically eye to eye.  
  
“I am not treating you as a woman. I am very well aware of who you are,” the baron finally said. “We've danced before, Daniel, and as I recall you never had a problem with me taking the lead every once in a while.”  
  
“That's not what I—“  
  
“Then what is it?”  
  
“It's not about who's leading. It's not that. It's just… just...” Daniel took a deep breath and tried again. “I don't need to be supported like some frail maiden. You don't have to treat me like I'm something delicate and precious, something in need of protecting. I can manage on my own.”  
  
He looked up and found the elder's amber eyes boring into him. There was a thunderous look on his face that Daniel had begun to associate with immediate trouble. As though confirming his suspicions Alexander's arm tightened around him and Daniel felt like air was slowly being squeezed out of his lungs.  
  
“Why is it so difficult for you to accept help? Is it so very humiliating to let someone else take care of you for once?”  
  
“I don't need to be taken care of—“  
  
“Yes, you do,” Alexander cut across him. “You are dangerously ignorant of your well-being.”  
  
“I can take care of myself, thank you very much.”  
  
“Oh? Strange that so far you haven't chosen to do so in front of me.”  
  
“I am not a child!”  
  
“You are certainly acting like one.”  
  
Daniel started as though struck, and his voice was oddly colourless when he spoke again. “I'll be fine on my own, as I've always been. There's no need for you to look after me.”  
  
“What on earth is the matter with you?”  
  
“I am sure I've no idea what your lordship is talking about,” the younger man replied coldly. He tried to break out of Alexander's hold once again but the elder didn't let go.  
  
“Is it so very degrading that I should worry about you?” Alexander said, his voice dropping to a menacing growl. It seemed he hadn't taken kindly to the brunette's sudden formality. “That I should take care of you as you have taken care of me?”  
  
“You don't understand. You shouldn't need to coddle me—“  
  
“It is not coddling, you fool! I am only trying to ensure you don't get hurt.”  
  
“Just stop it!” Daniel bellowed, drowning out his voice. The baron blinked, so taken aback that his grip loosened and Daniel nearly lost his balance when the arm supporting him wasn't holding him up as firmly all of a sudden. “Don't you understand? You can't afford to show any weakness after everything that's happened with the duke – you have to focus on more important matters, the time's too crucial for nonsense like this—“  
  
“Caring for your health is hardly nonsense, Daniel.”  
  
“You don't have the time for this!” the Englishman retorned. His voice had a desperate edge to it now. “I've already recovered. You don't need to assist me any more.”  
  
“You clearly have not recovered as you should have, Daniel. Surely even you can see that.”  
  
Daniel tried to look away from his but the baron cupped his chin with his free hand and forced him to look him in the eye. For a long time they simply glared at each other.  
  
“Well?”  
  
Daniel swallowed. “I've never needed someone to take care of me. I can manage on my own.”  
  
“Oh, please. Your parents must have taken care of you and your sister—“  
  
“It was I who looked after Hazel and cared for her when she fell ill,” he said, and there was a hint of pride in his voice. “Father had to work harder to cover the costs of her medicine and the visits to the doctor. Mother was busy. I was always Hazel's favourite; she preferred my company to our parents'. She knew she could always depend on me for help.”  
  
“And when _you_ needed help? Who did you depend on?”  
  
The brunette opened his mouth but no words came out. Slowly, he simply shook his head, and Alexander let go of his chin.  
  
“It is not weakness to accept help from others, Daniel. You don't have to do everything alone.”  
  
“I don't want to become a burden to you,” he muttered.  
  
“Needing help does not make you a burden. Do you understand?”  
  
He nodded. Alexander readjusted his grip, still keeping an arm around his waist. He held up his free hand, looking at the younger man expectantly, and Daniel took it after a short moment of hesitation. Wordlessly, Alexander pulled them into another dance, slowly leading the brunette across the floor. It was a slower melody this time, without complicated steps or quick turns, and after a while Daniel found himself starting to relax; his leg still ached from time to time but Alexander supported his weight effortlessly, allowing him to focus only on the rhytmn.  
  
There seemed to be no need to talk. The baron continued his silent humming, never interrupting the melody or insisting they stop; the brunette was sure he noticed every time he fumbled with his steps, but Alexander made no mention of it. Daniel allowed his head to rest against the other's shoulder, eyes closing, and he lost his sense of time as they slowly turned on the spot. When they finally came to a halt they remained as they were, arms around each other, simply holding on, and a part of Daniel almost hated to admit how comforting it felt.  
  
“Do you still detest my holding you like this?” Alexander breathed into his ear.  
  
“Like what?”  
  
“Like a lover.”  
  
He shuddered when the elder kissed his temple, suddenly aware of how cold his lips were. In his mind's eye Daniel pictured what they must have looked like standing like this, pressed together so tight that they could feel the rising and falling of each other's chests, and it hit him that the elder might be right. _He's the one who keeps telling me that we are equals,_ Daniel thought, feeling rather dumb.  
  
“No, I don't detest it,” he admitted. “It was easier to keep my balance.”  
  
“Yes, I surmised it would be.”  
  
“It wouldn't be appropriate to dance like this in public, though.”  
  
“Perhaps not,” the baron agreed. “But we are quite alone here.” He finally let go of Daniel and handed the cane back to him. “Will you join me in the parlour?”  
  
“Of course. I'll just make a quick detour to the kitchen and get myself some tea first, if you don't mind.”  
  
It was quite labourious to get the tea tray and all its contents up the stairs, but Daniel judged it worth the effort; it was dreadfully chilly in the evenings and warm tea felt like a luxury in the castle's present state. He could hear the piano as he approached the parlour and wasn't surprised to find Alexander seated in front of it, already lost in the music. Daniel set the tray on an empty table, closed the door and sat down as quietly as he could on an arm chair closest to the piano.  
  
He thought he could watch Alexander like this for hours. How his brows furrowed, then relaxed again; how his eyes darted this way and that, at times serious, at times soft like gentle spring sunlight; his lips parting ever so slightly as he played. His eyes would close on instinct and he'd breathe out slowly through his mouth as all tension vanished from his body and he gave in entirely to the melody flowing from his fingertips, and Daniel could read from his face that he was in some world that was completely and totally his own. It wasn't so much that he breathed life into the music, it was the music that breathed life into him.  
  
It was enthralling, the brunette thought, seeing a world of emotion shifting across his features so openly and effortlessly, without his usual collected mask. Alexander struck up another melody, almost seamlessly switching from a melancholic tune to something light-hearted that wouldn't have been out of place in a ballroom. He caught Daniel staring at him and slowly, his bemused expression made way for a smile so genuine that Daniel felt like someone had kicked the air out of his lungs again.  
  
He poured himself another cup of tea and drank slowly, keeping his eyes firmly on the cup. _I am going to drop it if he does that again,_ Daniel thought, blushing furiously. He liked to believe that he knew Alexander relatively well after living with him for more than a year, but genuine displays of emotion were still so rare on the elder's side that each one of them tended to be more than enough to floor him.  
  
_I wonder where he learned to play the piano so well. I've never asked him.  
  
_ Daniel stole a quick glance at him, his hands flying over the keys as though it were second nature to him. Surely he must have had a tutor of his own when he had been a child to have learned the instrument so well.  
  
There was the sound of pages being turned and Daniel looked up. The baron had paused his playing, the piece finished, and was leafing through the scores on the music stand. He stopped at a spread, looking satisfied, and set his fingers on the keys again. Daniel craned his neck to see better; the notes appeared to be handwritten.  
  
“Whose composition is this?”  
  
“Mine,” Alexander replied, confirming Daniel's thoughts. He had, on occasion, leafed through the elder's scores out of curiousity, and found pages full of Alexander's narrow handwriting here and there. Without even pausing to think the elder started playing, and Daniel had a feeling he was looking at the notes more out of habit than actual need.  
  
“Does it have a title?”  
  
“' _Dream of Dreams'_ ,” the baron said.  
  
“How very romantic of you,” Daniel said, the corners of his mouth twitching.  
  
“Quit leering at me like that.”  
  
The brunette laughed. “I meant no offense, Alexander. It is a fitting name for such a lovely composition. How did you learn to compose?”  
  
“I am not entirely sure myself,” the elder admitted. He seemed to have no trouble carrying both a conversation and a tune at the same time. “I felt from an early age that the compositions of others were not what I wanted to play. They didn't suit me – it was as though they lacked what I sought to convey.”  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
Alexander's face had turned thoughtful, and he didn't respond immediately. “Would you rather choose to quote someone else or express yourself through your own words, Daniel? Which one do you feel would come closer to describing what you want to say?”  
  
“Aren't both just as good?” Daniel asked, frowing slightly. “I mean, sometimes it takes a poet to put into words what you what to say but can't quite grasp yourself.”  
  
“But would it be what you truly wanted to say?”  
  
“Well, perhaps. Not everyone is good with words.”  
  
“I thought you might see it that way,” the baron nodded. “But it's not always enough to borrow from someone else. Sometimes the words have to be yours and yours alone, no matter how crude or clumsy. No one else can truly describe what is in your heart but you. How am I to express myself through the thoughts of others? How should I speak through music that is not my own?”  
  
Daniel stared at him, mouth slightly open.  
  
“You are leering at me again,” the baron scoffed, noticing his expression.  
  
“You truly have the soul of an artist,” Daniel said. He couldn't quite keep the tone of admiration out of his voice.  
  
“Is that so surprising?”  
  
“Just unexpected. I find it quite endearing, to be honest.”  
  
Alexander sighed in exasperation, decidedly looking away from him.  
  
Much later – it must have been hours, though it was still pitch dark outside – when the teapot was already empty and Daniel had started dozing in his chair, the baron stopped playing and closed the lid. The younger man blinked blearily, waking from stupour once he realised the music had ended.  
  
“What time is it?” he asked, yawning.  
  
“Almost two in the morning. You should be off to bed.”  
  
“Is that an invitation?”  
  
Alexander smirked. “I wish it were, but you must be up early. I cannot have the master and his workers in the castle unsupervised.”  
  
“That's true,” Daniel replied. He couldn't help feeling disappointed. There hadn't been many chances for privacy in the past weeks; the workers arrived early and left at dusk, and he spent most of his days keeping an eye on them. It meant full working days for him with no possibility of sleeping in.  
  
“I'm not at all sure it's advisable for you to stay up so late. You need your rest.”  
  
He shrugged and stretched slowly before attempting to get up. Alexander took his arm and helped him to his feet.  
  
“I suppose I shall turn in for the night,” Daniel said, reaching for the cane.  
  
He was already making to leave when the elder's hand grasped his shoulder suddenly and held him back. Daniel jolted when he felt him press against his back, leaning down to kiss his neck. Cold lips ghosted over his jugular, right where his heartbeat was the most prominent. “It was right here in this room where you found out about my secret,” Alexander whispered into his hair, drawing an involuntary shudder from him. “Do you remember?”  
  
“Of… of course. It's only been a year.”  
  
“That mistake could have cost you your life. I don't think I've ever been as hungry as I was then.” The baron peppered his skin with small kisses until Daniel was squirming against him.  
  
“Why? Hadn't you just fed on your journey?”  
  
“Because I was present when you wounded yourself, I saw you cut your skin – and because you ran away,” the elder breathed into his ear. Daniel raised his hand almost unconsciously, examining the scar the glass had left there, and Alexander laughed with such a deep, rumbling sound that it made the hairs at the back of his neck stand on end. “It is an instinct for my kind to give chase to escaping prey, you see. You were so very close to me, with no means to protect yourself, and I could hear your heartbeat as clearly as if it had been my own; the temptation to drain you where you stood was terrible.”  
  
Daniel bit his lip, holding back the whimper about to escape from him. The person he had been back then would have been frightened out of his wits to hear this, but much had changed ever since. Alexander gave his earlobe a tentative nip, and all Daniel could think of was how little he wished to return to his cold bedroom alone.  
  
“I'm afraid you're not helping if you seek to spurn me from your bed tonight,” Daniel said shakily. He pushed back against the baron and, much to his delight, drew a soft moan from him. “I can feel how cold your body has become once again. I know you'll need to feed soon.”  
  
“I know what you are offering,” Alexander replied. His arm snaked around the brunette's waist. “And as tempting as that offer is, my answer is no.”  
  
“Truly, you are a cruel man.”  
  
“You should have known that by now.”  
  
Daniel dipped back his head, enjoying the feeling of sharp fangs scratching against his skin as the elder suckled on a spot on his neck. He let out an almost woeful sigh when Alexander let go, leaving the spot feeling just slightly sore. “What are you trying to tell me with this, then?”  
  
“That you're mine, Daniel, mine. That I could break your neck in the blink of an eye should I so choose to, or suck you dry until you have nothing more to give.” Alexander's hand dropped to his crotch, palming him through his trousers, and Daniel groaned. “Remember this. Remember what I am when you lay down to rest and think of me tonight.”  
  
“I'd hardly forget about that anytime soon.”  
  
“Good.” Alexander grasped him once more through his clothes before withdrawing his hand. Daniel turned around to face him as quickly as his leg allowed; there was something about the baron's tone of voice that bothered him.  
  
“What brought this on all of a sudden?” Daniel asked him. There was a distant look on Alexander's face, as though his thoughts were occupied, and he said nothing. The brunette stepped closer. “Something's the matter, isn't it?”  
  
“What makes you think that?”  
  
“Please. As if you'd seek to hurt me after all this time,” Daniel said, waving his hand. “It's been long since you could frighten me with your nature, and I'm sure you know that.”  
  
Alexander took his time answering, and he seemed to be choosing his words with care when he spoke. “Remember whom you've sworn allegiance to, Daniel. It doesn't come without a price.”  
  
“I don't understand what you're saying. You're not making any—”  
  
The baron reached out, cupped his face and kissed him full on the mouth. He spoke in urgent whispers as they broke apart. “If there ever comes a day that your life is threatened, I'd sooner kill you myself than let someone else hurt you. I will not allow anyone to take you from me.”  
  
The Englishman eyed him cautiously, trying to grasp what he was saying. “You're still not making any sense.”  
  
“Do you remember what the duke said last time I met him?”  
  
“He said a lot of things, Alexander—”  
  
“I have been summoned to the gathering of the Order,” the baron interrupted. “I shall ride out at dusk on the 7th of December. And you cannot come with me this time.”  
  
“ _What?_ You can't seriously think I'll let you go alone,” Daniel sputtered.  
  
“I need you to watch over Brennenburg in my absence – and act on my behalf, should the need arise.”  
  
“But—“  
  
“This is not up for debate, Daniel. You _will_ remain here.”  
  
“What if something happens?”  
  
“That is exactly why I cannot take you with me. You'd be at risk should you come along.”  
  
“But it's dangerous for you to go there on your own!”  
  
“It would be dangerous for me regardless.”  
  
Daniel's eyes were wide, sudden worry creeping up his spine. Whatever drowsiness he'd felt previously was gone now, as surely as if he'd been doused with cold water. “Alexander, please...”  
  
“You've pledged your loyalty to me a countless times – now prove it by following my orders. Show me that you'll do as I say, even if it means leaving you behind.” When the brunette stammered, unable to get a single word out, Alexander kissed him again, softer this time. “I need you to do this for me, Daniel. Do I have your word?“  
  
“Alexander—“  
  
“ _Do I have it?_ ”  
  
Daniel stared at him, searching his amber eyes for any sign that he was being tested, but to no avail. “Is this what you were on about earlier? Reminding me about my loyalty to you?”  
  
“What if I was?”  
  
“I… I guess I have no choice. What do you want me to do?” the younger man asked shakily.  
  
“Keep the castle and yourself safe until my return. Keep the gates closed and let no one enter. Those are my orders.”  
  
“What if someone does get in?”  
  
“Kill them.”  
  
Daniel's hands clenched into fists, and he nodded seriously. “And you? Do _you_ promise you'll return?”  
  
Alexander caressed his cheek softly. “I shall try.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy new year 2017, aaand we're back in business! Sorry for the long wait, guys, I was pretty wiped out for an entire week and unable to write much. Being sick sucks, and I'm still quite tired even though I've gotten better. x.x I'm working on the next chapter as we speak, and there's a raging snowstorm outside - it's quite pleasant, really.
> 
> Daniel still has some personal issues to tackle, doesn't he? I can easily imagine him as the independent type who has difficulties accepting help and care from others, and I've been looking forward to addressing that for a while. Personal insecurities don't just vanish simply because one enters a relationship, after all - it's unfortunately common for people to believe that love will magically fix their issues. In Daniel's case, well, he needs reassurance more than just once. These two idiots have still so much to learn about one another. *dramatic sigh*
> 
> We are slowly but surely getting to the finale of this story (I can't believe it has taken me this long!) and while I can't give an exact chapter count yet, I've estimated that there will be 2-3 chapters more. That's it. Yes. At last. I know, I feel pretty sad to think this story will come to an end, but it has had a definite ending in my head ever since I began writing the story and now it's time to finally reach it. Thanks for sticking with me all this time, guys. <3 Your comments, kudos and overall feedback have been an enormous source of motivation and inspiration to me, and I can honestly say I wouldn't have gotten this far without your support. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, now join Daniel in anticipating Alexander's departure and what comes out of it. :'D I'll try to get the next chapter out sometime next week, but I'm not gonna set myself a certain date since I'm still recovering. Toodles, let me know what you think!


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'I fell in love with you  
> Long before I knew  
> What it meant to give everything up  
> I was a rolling stone  
> Rolling my way along  
> Till you came  
> And made sense out of everything'
> 
> First Aid Kit – A Long Time Ago

_December 1841_

The knowledge about Alexander's departure had set a permanent chill in Daniel's bones more surely than the winter itself. He seemed to carry it around wherever he went; he couldn't bear to sit still for too long, for his thoughts would be overcome with nagging worry as quickly as his body would start shivering. He hailed the arrival of December with no little amount of restlessness, though he was glad to wave the stonemasons goodbye as soon as they found the ground white and frosty one morning. It was eerily quiet without the sounds of men at work, the castle settling back into its usual quietude. Even the wind that Daniel had almost gotten used to no longer howled indoors, now that the ceiling and the outer wall were patched up.

He had attempted to talk the baron out of his plan to attend the meeting of the Order, bringing it up every few nights until Alexander had grown weary of the constant arguments and told him, very bluntly, to stuff it. Daniel had done exactly that and left his bedroom with the slamming of the door, but even he had to admit their bickering was growing tiresome, and in the end he simply dropped the subject. He had a hunch Alexander was well aware of his ever-present uneasiness but neither of them mentioned it, and so the days leading up the turn of the month waned as fast as the last days of autumn.  
  
In the evenings he no longer left the comforts of his drawing room to seek the baron's company and turned in early, though there was no need for him to get up early in the mornings anymore. It wasn't that he was avoiding Alexander – or at least, he hadn't meant to do so, not deliberately. But their smiles were forced and their conversations dried up after couple of feeble attempts everytime they sought each other's company, and Daniel couldn't stand it after a while. The baron had taken on a mask of feigned calm, akin to how he always acted around outsiders, and Daniel shrunk away from him.

All else he might have still tolerated, but not this – not being treated just the same as everyone else.  
  
It was late, past midnight some days before Alexander's journey when Daniel awoke to the feeling of being watched. It was pitch dark in his chambers; the coals in his fireplace no longer glowed, the fire long since dead. The visitor made no sound but Daniel knew he was there, though he didn't bother to acknowledge his presence in any way. Silent eyes raked over his resting form but he remained still, pretending to be asleep, and after a while the baron left as quietly as he'd come.  
  
This repeated for several nights, and Daniel vaguely wondered what he wanted. If he needed to feed he could have just roused him… Daniel almost gave in to his curiosity and asked Alexander himself – he made it as far as standing behind his door, ready to knock – before he came to his senses and left. He couldn't do it to himself; he knew what would happen if he gave the vampyre his blood. One thing would lead to another, and the thought felt unbearable when he knew Alexander was leaving, with no guarantee he'd make it back.  
  
The closer they came to the day of his departure the more poorly the brunette slept, until the night before he simply lied in his bed sleeplessly, staring into the darkness. The flames in the fireplace flickered and then died, but he didn't bother getting up to tend to them. He couldn't tell how long he'd been lying there, unmoving, when he became aware of someone else's presence in the room. His visitor moved silently – too silently. The lack of sounds was unnerving, and it made his skin crawl. The way the air changed signalled that someone had opened the door, the heat of the fire escaping the room; a light draft that died so quickly that it was barely noticeable. The building itself seemed to hold its breath when its master was present, not daring to make the smallest creak. Daniel smiled into his pillow despite himself; all these small signs he'd grown accustomed to, telling him Alexander was there.  
  
He ached to turn around and beckon to him, to look at him to his heart's content before he went away. Daniel shook himself mentally and pushed the desire away. As if he'd ever he looked his fill, knowing he'd be gone in less than twenty-four hours.  
  
He could tell Alexander stood watching him intently as though expecting him to rise, and Daniel wished he'd go before his resolve cracked.  
  
“I know you're awake, Daniel,” the baron said quietly.  
  
Daniel swallowed, but did not stir. Alexander sighed.  
  
“You have been avoiding me.”  
  
“I haven't,” the younger man muttered.  
  
“Then why won't you look at me?”  
  
Daniel felt himself shaking and pulled the quilt more firmly over himself. A moment later the mattress dipped and Alexander was stroking his hair.  
  
“I am leaving tomorrow,” the elder said.  
  
“Can you promise you'll come back?”  
  
There was a pause before he answered. “No, I cannot.”  
  
Daniel pushed himself into a sitting position, whipping around to face the baron. It was a shock to find him so close, after weeks of avoiding him, and Daniel couldn't keep the pleading out of his voice. “Then why won't you take me with you?”  
  
Alexander took his hands between both of his own, his skin icy cold once again. “If the sheriff knows about you and I, there is a risk that he will have told the duke. To bring you along would be… unwise.”  
  
“You think he'd try to get to you through me?”  
  
“I am almost certain of it.”  
  
Daniel opened his mouth to protest, but whatever response he'd been formulating in his mind vanished at the look on the baron's face. His eyes were weary, the shadows underneath them darker than ever.  
  
“I came to bid you farewell,” Alexander continued, his voice subdued. Daniel winced.  
  
“Please don't say it like that.”  
  
“Like what?”  
  
“Like you don't even expect to return,” the brunette choked out, the words catching in his throat. He'd wanted to send the elder off without tantrums or emotional outbursts; just a servant seeing his master off just like one year ago, content that he'd come back, that it was nothing for him to worry about. Daniel leaned forwards and kissed him, a long, lingering kiss that told him neither of them wanted it to be over. Finally, Alexander broke away, standing up and letting go of his hands.  
  
“I'll come and see you off tomorrow,” Daniel heard himself say. The elder nodded, slowly backing away. Daniel had the impression that he wanted to keep watching him for as long as possible, as though attempting to memorise every aspect of his appearance. Then, finally, he heard tore his gaze away and left the room, closing the door after himself.  


* * *

  
The day of Alexander's departure was unusually bright. The sun didn't climb very high on the sky at this time of the year, but the skies were cloudless, the light so blindingly bright that Daniel's eyes couldn't quite adjust to it. The sunlight made his eyes water and run until the skin around his eyes was irritated and red, and he rubbed the water away stubbornly, telling himself they weren't tears.  
  
As evening approached he opened the gates leading to the courtyard and lit the lanterns by the front door. There was a light dusting of snow and frost covering the grounds, like fine powder, and he wondered if the roads wouldn't be too slippery for travel. It was with certain reluctance that he made his way to the baron's chambers an hour before sunset and roused him. They exchanged very few words as Daniel produced the familiar leather suitcase from the wardrobe and started packing, carefully folding a change of clothes for him. He made to grab a thick travelling cloak from the wardrobe and place it with the other items but Alexander cleared his throat just then, getting up from the bed.  
  
“You keep that,” the baron said, walking over to him.  
  
“Surely you'll need it on the road – at least for show.”  
  
“I don't feel the cold as you do. Keep it.” Daniel bit his lip, but Alexander took the cloak from him and draped it around his shoulders before he could protest any further. “Stay warm in my absence, and don't wander too far.”  
  
“Alright.”  
  
Alexander dressed in his travelling clothes and Daniel let him take him by the arm as they made their way into the dark entrance hall. The suitcase was light in his hand; there had been very little the baron had wanted to bring along.  
  
They found the driver already waiting by the door as they went down the stairs. He took the suitcase and returned to the carriage, and the two men followed him wordlessly. The driver held the carriage door open as they stepped outdoors and Alexander gave him a curt nod. He let go of Daniel's arm and wheeled around to face him.  
  
“I'll see you in two weeks, if the weather favours my journey.”  
  
“Take care, sir.” His voice shook ever so slightly, but he managed to keep his expression neutral. Alexander grasped his shoulder briefly, giving it a squeeze.  
  
“Take care, Daniel.”  
  
And the baron climbed into the carriage, aided by the driver. Daniel followed the carriage with his eyes as it turned around and clattered through the gates, towards the darkening woods, until shadows swallowed it entirely and he saw nothing no more. He felt frozen to his marrows as he walked up to the gates and locked them for good.  


* * *

  
He did all possible things he could think of to keep himself busy, but there was very little left to do. His leg would still cramp up regularly, giving him no choice but to stick to the cane, limiting his mobility. The garden was at rest and there was nothing more that he could repair in the grounds, and three days after the elder had left Daniel woke up to find Brennenburg buried deep in snow, making sure he couldn't venture outside even if he'd wanted to.  
  
After some half-hearted attempts Daniel gave up his quest to look for more furniture in need of repairs. There might have been something in the half-destroyed second floor parlour, he knew, but the door had been bolted shut and for a good reason. The remaining floorboards were too unstable to stand on; the stonemasons had taken one look at the room and declared it inaccessible until something was done about its condition in the spring.  
  
Daniel found himself spending long, lazy hours cooped up in Alexander's study in the library, doors firmly shut and a fire blazing in the fireplace to provide even some heat. It was a feeble attempt at its best – he felt like he was never properly warm anymore these days, not since the attack on him in Altstadt. He'd only noticed it afterwards, but the swollen spot in his midriff had never vanished entirely, and he wondered, for the fiftieth time it seemed, if he'd ruptured something permanently.  
  
_If I collapse one day and Alexander finds me dead, well, I guess that'll answer my question,_ he thought dully and placed a hand on the swollen spot. It didn't hurt unless he pressed against it, and Daniel guessed it wouldn't be fatal if it hadn't killed him thus far.  
  
But the worry over his old injuries wasn't enough to divert his unease elsewhere. He found himself staring out the windows more and more, eyes unfocused, and much too aware of the baron's absence. Before, he'd always acted so utterly sure of himself that Daniel had felt like a fool to doubt him, no matter what. Alexander had never left space for hesitation or uncertainty; everything seemed set in stone with him, preordained. He'd always seemed to have an ace up his sleeve, even if Daniel hadn't known what it was.  
  
“It's different this time,” Daniel muttered to himself, staring at the setting sun. “When I asked him to come back safely, he just told me he'd try. _Try._ ” _  
  
_ The words felt emptier than anything else he'd heard in his entire life. There was no _try_ in Alexander's vocabulary; it was either do or don't. The Englishman leaned back in his seat, trying to recall the look on the elder's face when they'd talked about the gathering of the Order. Had it been hesitation? Fear? Daniel shook his head. It felt laughable to even consider that.  
  
“He will come back,” Daniel said. The word tumbled out of his mouth before he could catch them, and even he could tell how desperate it sounded.  
  
_He has to come back._  


* * *

  
A week passed by uneventfully. The forest was winter-clad and perfectly still, it seemed, masking Brennenburg in silence so complete that it was almost eerie. Daniel was used to the silence; Alexander never made much noise unless it was intentional, and he had grown accustomed to being the only living person in the castle. It was still difficult to realise how totally alone he truly was out there, now, when even visits to town were out of question.  
  
Gabriel paid him a visit before Christmas, delivering a stack of letters and an entire smoked ham from the matron.  
  
“Something for you to enjoy,” he said, handing the goods to Daniel. “Have you been fasting? You look rather thinner than usual.”  
  
“No, not at all. I just haven't had much of an appetite as of late.”  
  
The outrider nodded sombrely. His usual jovial mood had been gone since the incident in Altstadt, and he looked about as tired as Daniel felt. “Try to eat something, you hear me? You are starting to look unhealthy as you are.”  
  
“I'll give it a try. Thanks, Gabriel,” he said, attempting a smile. The muscles in his face felt stiff from the lack of use and he had a hunch all he'd managed was a grimace.  
  
“Don't mention it. The matron's been worried sick about you after… well...”  
  
“Thank her for me and let her know I'm doing just fine, won't you?”  
  
“Of course.” The outrider looked around shiftily; Daniel had the feeling he was avoiding his eye. “Daniel, I wanted to ask you something about the baron. He's… Are you..?”  
  
_He knows,_ Daniel thought darkly. He merely raised his eyebrows, trying to appear as oblivious as possible. Gabriel cleared his throat.

“Ah… never mind,” he said, giving Daniel's arm an amicable squeeze. “Are you sure you don't want to come to town for Christmas? It seems awfully bleak to spend it all alone in here.”  
  
“I know this place like the back of my hand, Gabriel. I'll be fine.”  
  
“Alright, alright,” the outrider said, waving his hand airily. “I'll try to get the wagons up here at the turn of the month, but no promises if the weather stays like this.”  
  
Daniel watched him ride into the forest and disappear from view. He made sure to lock the gates again, hands shaking slightly as the metal made a quiet _click_. He supposed he shouldn't have been so shocked. Someone had helped him into dry clothes after he'd lost consciousness, must have seen his bitten and marked skin – it couldn't be just the outrider who'd seen his neckline and put two and two together. Either that, or the men the sheriff had had with him had spread rumours around town afterwards. Sighing, Daniel pushed hands in his pockets and retreated indoors.

“Alexander may have been right,” he mumbled. “Going with him would have been too dangerous.”  
  
The thought made him wish the baron would be back before the outrider and his wagons.  
  
But another week passed and the snow coat around the castle thickened with each passing day until Daniel could barely push the front door open for all the snow pressed against it. From the high windows he saw nothing but whiteness and treetops, and the path to the castle remained decidedly carriageless no matter how long he sat there on the window sill and stared into the velvety night.  


* * *

  
On the morning of Christmas Eve he woke up as alone as he'd been the night before. He didn't need to open his eyes to tell that the room was cold and the space next to him vacant. Daniel opened his eyes slowly, without any real interest to get up. The room was very dark; as the two weeks Alexander had promised had come and gone Daniel had taken into sleeping in his bedroom instead. He told himself it was just because it was warmer there – if he admitted to being lonely it would surely just make it worse. The roses he'd placed atop the fireplace were still there, faded and dry in their vase, and the sight made him sad. Waiting for sunrise in the rose garden seemed forever ago, now, summer nothing but a distant memory.  
  
He hadn't really expected Alexander to be back so quickly, not with the condition the roads were in. Just looking out the window and towards the valley of Altstadt told him snowfall had been heavy everywhere in the area, and the castle was nigh unreachable like this. He imagined the baron in an inn somewhere on the road, waiting for better weather. The idea didn't make him feel any less anxious.  
  
Christmas came and went, and Daniel greeted it without any particular enthusiasm. He feasted on the smoked ham the matron had sent him and drained the last of the wine left in the kitchen; the few bottles that had been stored in the cupboard were everything that remained of Alexander's stock, all else destroyed when the cellar had collapsed.  
  
It had stopped snowing finally, much to Daniel's relief, but the temperature remained low, promising no change in the conditions. He ate sparingly, knowing the outrider wouldn't be able to make the journey to the castle until some of the snow melted. Gloomily, he realised the same would hold true for Alexander, too – in the worst case scenario he'd be stuck in a town somewhere until spring. There was no way to tell.  
  
“Perhaps he'll send a messenger before long,” Daniel thought out loud.  
  
But no messenger, no rider, not a single soul came.  


* * *

  
_January 1842  
  
_ It had gone from bitterly cold to miserable and rainy in the span of three days. The courtyard had melted, then frozen again, making it treacherously slippery. Icy rain had begun to fall shortly after the turn of the year and it pounded dully against the windows. Sometimes the wind would make it sound like someone was rapping their knuckles against a window and Daniel looked around wildly, hoping against hope that he'd find a familiar figure looking at him, wet from the rain but unharmed. He knew it was for naught; he could only wait for a carriage to pull up at the gates eventually.  
  
He was barely sleeping any more and his appetite was all but gone. Daniel quite suspected that by the time someone thought to come looking for him he'd be reduced to nothing but a skeleton. He often lied awake at night and stared in the fire, or perused his journal, leafing through the various notes he'd made there over the course of a year. There were sketches of furniture and fine china, notes on the German language and planting instructions for all the different bulbs he'd traded for in the town. Most of his notes from the summer were black and white illustrations of the flowers he'd planted; he'd even sketched the old gnarly apple trees at the bottom of one page. There were dried leaves and petals squished between the pages of more recent entries, memories of autumn; and there, on an otherwise blank spread, a clumsy sketch of Alexander's sleeping face.  
  
Daniel traced the image with shaking fingertips, his mouth quite dry. He couldn't claim to be a masterful artist – there were drops of ink here and there left by his bleeding quill, and sometimes the lines were unclear and shaky – but the image bore the likeness of Alexander nevertheless. The brunette recalled sitting on the bed next to the sleeping man and stealing glances at him, half-afraid he'd dreamt everything.  
  
_It was the morning after the duke's banquet,_ Daniel remembered, and he couldn't resist smiling. The baron had fallen asleep in his party clothes, his skin warm and aflush with fresh blood. He could tell just by looking at the drawing just how badly his hands had been shaking the whole time; a part of his brain had feared the whole time that he'd just imagined the banquet night and that Alexander would wake up, disgusted with him, and drive him out of his bedroom.  
  
Daniel sighed wistfully. It hadn't been that long ago, yet it felt like it had been a piece of someone else's life. He picked up some petals that had fallen out from between the pages of the journal, putting them between the pages that held the drawing of Alexander instead. As an afterthought he pushed the journal beneath the baron's pillows, away from sight. Should there ever be trespassers in Brennenburg again, at least his notes wouldn't be in plain sight.  


* * *

  
“Hey! Open up!”  
  
The sound of hooves and of someone trying to open the gate roused him from his chores eventually, the noises strange and loud in his ears after weeks of solitude. Daniel wrapped himself in the thick cloak Alexander had left with him and descended the stairs slowly. It was much too early in the day for it to be the baron's carriage; sighing, Daniel pushed the front door open, and came to a halt almost immediately.  
  
He had expected Gabriel and his wagons. Instead, there were at least a dozen people standing right outside the gates, staring at him with wary eyes. They had left their horses at the edge of the woods.  
  
“There he is!” someone said loudly, and there was quiet chattering. Daniel pursed his lips but advanced determinedly, cloak billowing behind him. The wind was still icy and felt like knives against his exposed face.  
  
“Let us in, foreigner,” one of the men demanded before he'd even reached the gates. There was a menacing look on his face.  
  
“To what do I owe this very unusual pleasure, gentlemen?” Daniel replied, pretending that he hadn't heard the man.  
  
“We want a word with the baron,” the man continued brusquely. “Open the gates!”  
  
“The baron is not at home,” Daniel said.  
  
“He's lying!” another man yelled.  
  
“Why would I be lying to you?”  
  
“We know what you are, baron's dog,” the man who'd spoken first growled. “And we know that demon never leaves his damned nest until it's dark out. Let us in!”  
  
“I have no idea what you're insinuating, sir—“  
  
“Why don't we ever see him before nightfall, eh? Afraid of the sun, is he?” The man spat on the ground. “Don't think you can fool us! The baron's made a deal with the devil!”  
  
“Watch your mouth!” Daniel hissed. “What foolish superstition is this?”  
  
“Why do we keep finding dead animals in the countryside? Why's there always people falling ill whenever he's in town? Zimmermann's wife's been anaemic since the bastard last visited—“  
  
Several of the men nodded solemnly.  
  
“And there's been people going missing in the woods without a trace for ages,“ another man supplied from the back of the crowd. “The sheriff said there are records—“  
  
“Of course there are records,” Daniel said irritably. “Given to the duke Hohenzollern in person by the baron himself. Didn't the good sheriff bother telling you that part, or did you elect to ignore it?”

“How come no one's ever seen the baron's family in living memory?”  
  
“Or even a family tree? Why hasn't his lineage been recorded anywhere?”  
  
“He's a demon that feeds on the living, that's why,” one of the men spat, and the others around him murmured in agreement. “My gran told me the baron in her days looked exactly like baron Alexander – heard he even bore the same name. Just a coincidence, is that?”  
  
“You are delusional,” Daniel ground out between clenched teeth. His hands had balled into fists. “What God-fearing men believe such nonsense? You should be ashamed of yourselves, the lot of you.”  
  
“Don't speak of God to us, heathen!” another man yelled indignantly. He gave the gate a rough shove, and the horses behind the crowd tossed their heads nervously. “We _know_ what services you offer to that demon.”  
  
Another man next to him looked directly at Daniel, a lopsided leer splitting his face. “The sheriff told us all about you, boy. Heard you keep the baron's bed real warm every night...”  
  
Daniel could feel his face colouring, with rage or with embarrassment, he didn't know. Something about the man's voice sounded familiar, and he recalled cold pavement and rain, followed by sharp pain. The brunette quirked an eyebrow, meeting the man's stare unflinchingly. “Ah. I thought I recognised your voice.” His lips curled into a tight smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. “Thanks for the last time. I bet the sheriff paid you handsomely for your help.”  
  
Blood was pounding against his eardrums, his hands trembling from the rush of adrenaline. If only he had a weapon… The desire to open the gate and break the leering man's nose was overwhelming; it almost felt like it would be worth the consequences. Daniel assessed the situation as calmly as he could, his smile widening as he took in their appearances. Despite their rancour they still eyed him warily, as though uncertain whether he possessed some demonic power that he'd soon unleash upon them. The gates would hold, he knew that much. If the men didn't come back with something sturdy enough to break through, all they could do was throw insults at him. One of them pushed against the gates again, but all the metal did was creak dully in response.  
  
“Gentlemen,” Daniel told them. “This isn't going anywhere. Go back to your homes—”  
  
“We're not going anywhere 'till we see the baron!”  
  
Several of the men rammed against the gates again, but to no avail. One of the horses whinnied, pacing anxiously.  
  
“We'll get in one way or another,” one of the men threatened. “Just you wait, bastard. _Just you wait._ ”  
  
“I won't hold my breath,” Daniel said coldly, turning at his heels. He'd had enough of this nonsense.  
  
He made to return to the castle as the men continued cursing and yelling after him, the rattling of the gates following him all the way. He was almost halfway across the courtyard when the sound of approaching hooves made him pause, and behind him he heard the assembled men shout in alarm and scramble about. Daniel whipped around again, and to his surprise he saw the outrider riding up the forest path with wagons lagging behind him. Three other riders followed after them, flanking the wagons.  
  
“It's Gabriel,” the Englishman heard one of the men mutter, and as one they fell silent.  
  
“What on earth is going on over here?” Gabriel asked loudly as he came to a halt. His expression was thunderous, eyebrows knit together. “I demand an explanation!”  
  
None of the men seemed very eager to give one. They glanced at one another in sullen fashion until one of them, the one that Daniel had recognised as one of the sheriff's henchmen, spoke up. “We just wanted to have a word with the baron, is all. Seems there's an awful lot that he hasn't explained to us about the disappearances and all...”  
  
“Yeah, what he's told us doesn't add up with the sheriff's version at all!”  
  
“You know there have been rumours about Brennenburg for decades, Gabriel...”  
  
“This nonsense again?” the outrider said. His voice had taken a sharper edge than Daniel had ever heard him use before. “Keep this up and you'll harm our people's reputation among the nobility. You know perfectly well we cannot afford that – if we lose the baron's support, we could all end up paying twice the amount in taxes. Are you willing to take that risk? Is that in the best interest of your children?”  
  
There was a nasty silence. The men didn't seem willing to look at the outrider or at Daniel, and one by one they made their way towards the horses, grumbling mutinously. Gabriel and his companions continued staring at them all the way until the men had gotten on their steeds and galloped at full speed into the woods, disappearing from view for good.  
  
“They're gone, Gabriel,” the rider holding the rear said finally, eyes still fixed on the forest path. Sighing, the outrider slid down from his saddle and his companions did the same. Daniel unlocked the gates, pushing them open. His heart was still racing as though he'd sprinted a mile.  
  
“You couldn't have arrived at a better moment,” he told the outrider. “They didn't seem too willing to leave.”  
  
“No, I suspect they didn't,” Gabriel replied. “I saw them leave town this morning but we couldn't pursue them fast enough, not with the wagons with us.”  
  
“What's going on? I thought the sheriff had been ordered back by the duke?”  
  
“Oh, he left alright,” the farmer said. “Didn't stop the rumours from flying around, though.”  
  
“I've heard them talking nonsense since that attack. There's talk about storming the castle, overthrowing the nobility...”  
  
Daniel gaped at them, hand still resting on cold metal. “But what for? If there have been rumours for years already and no one's acted before—”  
  
“They're frightened,” Gabriel said with a shake of his head. “They want someone to blame for the deaths and disappearances, and after your attack… well, there hasn't been a public whipping in this area for decades, Daniel. It rubbed some people the wrong way. They're calling it an abuse of power, that the baron's going too far...”  
  
“But… Wasn't it the baron's duty to uphold law and order in this realm before? I thought Brennenburg had even served as a prison once upon a time.”

“Once upon a time, yes, but the barony hasn't had that duty in a long time.”  
  
They began unloading the wagons in a tense silence. Daniel had a hunch the outrider wanted to say more, but they didn't exchange a single word while they emptied the cargo. Once they were done the others returned to the now-empty wagons, and Gabriel turned to look at the brunette very seriously.  
  
“May I have a word, Daniel?”  
  
“Of course.”  
  
The outrider looked over his shoulder, making sure the others were all out of earshot now. He opened a pouch hanging from his belt and extracted something from it. Daniel inhaled sharply when he saw what it was; a pistol.  
  
“They'll come back, you know,” Gabriel said, pushing the pistol in his hands. “And when they do, they'll try to get in. If they succeed, be sure to have something to protect yourself with.”  
  
“I can't shoot a man,” the Englishman stammered.  
  
“There are no soldiers that we could call for aid, unless the duke can spare some to send with the baron. If anything happens, you are on your own.”  
  
“Can't you just..?”  
  
“No, Daniel,” the other man sighed. “I am only an outrider – they only listen to me out of respect, not because of my position. If appealing to common sense doesn't help, there isn't much I can do to stop them.”  
  
Daniel took a moment to find his voice again, and when he did, it came out more hoarse than before. “Have you heard anything about Alex... I, mean about the baron?”  
  
“So he is _not_ back yet, after all?”  
  
Daniel looked at him, confused, and shook his head.  
  
“The carriage and its driver came back a week or so ago.” Gabriel sighed again. “I thought something was off when I didn't see the baron in town… He must have been held up somehow.”  
  
The brunette nodded mutely; he felt like the world around him was about to come crashing down, and he clutched the pistol reflexively. Gabriel gave his arm a consoling pat.  
  
“I'm sure it's nothing to worry about,” the outrider told him. “Have you ever held a gun before? Do you know how to shoot?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Alright. Let me show you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel bad for poor Daniel, all alone and uncertain about what's going to happen - he's been through a lot, hasn't he? It feels like everything is spiralling out of his control, no matter how much he struggles against it. D: But worry not, I shan't leave you guys waiting for too long after ending the chapter with such a tense notion! Next chapter will be up at the turn of the month, so around 1st or 2nd of February, depending on how real life stuff plays out for me (my fiancée and I might be getting an apartment if Lady Luck favours us, so it could get just a little bit busy).
> 
> As I write this, the situation of the world seems very bleak and uncertain. There are bad news pouring in from all sides, especially after a certain man with a bad tan stepped into office. You know what I'm talking about, I'm sure. I don't like discussing politics, especially since this doesn't concern my country and thus I can only witness everything as an outsider without any real say in the matter, but I have to say I feel ill at ease constantly these days. I'm worried for a lot of you out there, honestly, especially those of you belonging to any minority. I can't do much to help, but I hope that my updates bring you even a short moment of cheer. Stay safe, guys, no matter where you are. And rest assured that once this story is over I am fully intending to write more - I have another multichapter fic planned out and in the making already, and there are several oneshots that are just waiting for their turn. This story may end in a few chapters but that doesn't mean there won't be more stories to read and look forward to. You have my word.
> 
> Hopefully I'll see you guys next week, take care of yourselves out there in the great big world and as always, let me know what you thought about this chapter. <3


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'So come to me, my love  
> I'll tap into your strength and drain it dry  
> Can never have enough  
> For you I'd burn the length and breadth of sky'
> 
> Vienna Teng – My Medea

_January 1842_

There was no sleep that night. The truth about Alexander – that something had happened to prevent his return – was like a column of ice pressing right through his heart, and Daniel stayed awake throughout the long, dark night, his restless eyes staring into the woods. He knew it was for naught; nothing materialised from the darkness no matter how long he stood there, and when the pale sun edged into the horizon it burned him as though he, too, belonged in the world of shadows now.  
  
_He's not coming back. He's gone._

Daniel fled from the sunlight, shutting himself where the day could not make mockery of his grief. He felt hollow and worn but his eyes were dry. There were no tears to shed at this point.

_Gone, gone, gone.  
  
_ He didn't even want to know what had happened to Alexander. He only thought back on the villagers' fury, and his lips pulled into a twisted smile as he imagined how they'd react upon realising that Daniel hadn't lied, that Alexander truly was not there. Oh, how angry they would be. Daniel pulled the pistol from his breast pocket instinctively, fingers curling around the cold metal. How alien it felt in his grip, how unfitting.  
  
“Let them come,” he heard himself say.  
  
If it was the duke's doing, well, he'd find out eventually, wouldn't he? The man would hardly just leave Brennenburg alone, knowing Alexander's servant still remained there. He would come calling, and he would come fast. The only question in Daniel's head was whether he'd strike before the villagers stormed the place, or if they'd all come at once, united by their mutual desire to bring down the baron's lair.  


* * *

  
They were there again; he heard the gates being rattled and yells telling the baron to show himself. Daniel acted as though he didn't notice. The quality of the noise told him the men had come unarmed once more, and as winter chill struck again with falling dusk they were forced to withdraw, leaving the castle shrouded in silence.  


* * *

  
It felt like he'd frozen in place, just sitting at the window sill night after night, staring into nothingness. He guessed he should have felt exhausted; should have collapsed on the spot. But his mind was too blank and too quiet, and the woods around Brennenburg seemed to echo that perfectly. The night was velvety black and unending, and he found no rest under the watchful eye of the moon.  
  
And then, there was a flicker of light in the darkness, and Daniel blinked, trying to focus on it. It seemed to bob in and out of view at random, sometimes entirely swallowed by the dark woods for minutes at a time, and he understood. _They are coming,_ Daniel thought. The light came into view again, closer now, and he thought he saw a figure carrying a torch, and then another, and another; a mob of villagers trudging up the forest path, and this time they were armed. Their fires suddenly lit up the winding road and the forest was alive with human voices, with yells and chants and curses. It seemed amusing to him, somehow, all the noise they made just to make themselves feel less insignificant in the vast wilderness they so feared.  
  
Daniel got up calmly, draping the travelling cloak around his shoulders. He felt something pulling him into the dark night, a call in his blood that started as a tingle in his fingertips and encompassed his body entirely as he became aware of it. With practised ease his hand gripped the cane for support and he made his way into the entrance hall slowly, head held high, back straight as an arrow, and there wasn't a hint of fear in him. _He told me to act in his place if need be,_ Daniel thought, echoing Alexander's words. _I owe this to him; I am the lord of this castle now.  
  
_ He pushed open the door and the voices of the villagers reached a whole new pitch at the sight of him. Daniel considered them quietly before stepping over the threshold; they had come bearing whatever they'd managed to get their hands on, it seemed. Pitchforks, spades, thick branches. Daniel stepped closer, and the response from the crowd was deafening. They held their torches higher as he approached and someone wedged a log between the gates, trying to force them open. Daniel came to a halt in the middle of the courtyard and counted. Perhaps two dozen men, farmhands and shopkeepers. Not a single soldier among their ranks.  
  
“Bring forth the baron!” a man yelled.  
  
“What claim have you over the lord and his castle? What claim does anyone of you have?” Daniel called out to them. His words roused a renewed wave of furious shouting from the gathered mob, all of whom waved and banged their makeshift weapons against the shut gates.  
  
“The lives of our wives and children!”  
  
“The safety of our village!”  
  
“Open the gates, scum! We want the baron!”  
  
Daniel held up his hand, but did not wait for them to quieten before speaking again. “We grow weary of this conversation. Go back to your homes at once, and we shall let you retreat unharmed.”  
  
“Who are you to command us, foreigner?” another man spat. His fellows pushed against the gates, goaded by his words.   
  
A gust of wind sent his cloak flying about him, and the flames of the torches quivered wildly, then settled again. Daniel gazed upwards into the sky; the moon was riding high, the skies above almost perfectly cloudless. The strange lull in his blood was growing louder and louder, like a constant stream of whispers that he couldn't quite grasp until they faded away.  
  
He heard the villagers yell more insults as him, and Daniel looked back at them with clear eyes. His breath came out as white clouds of vapour, but his limbs seemed to have forgotten how to feel cold momentarily.  
  
“This is your last warning,” the brunette said quietly. Under the pale moonlight they all looked like phantoms, and he found he couldn't tear his eyes away from them.  
  
The men had wedged another tool between the gates and tried to force them open once more. Daniel laughed, a hollow, mirthless sound that echoed in the icy grounds, and – was it just his imagination? Did the villagers actually flinch back at it?  
  
“Keep at it,” a man growled at the ones who'd been trying to open the gates. He gesticulated furiously to another man at his side, and in the next moment he was climbing over the gate, aided by one of his fellows. Daniel pulled out the pistol from his breast pocket, aiming it at the man.  
  
“I wouldn't do that if I were you,” he said.  
  
“Get that gate open!” the man commanded the others below him. He made his way to the top, climbed over the gate and jumped down. One of the men on the other side passed him a thick branch between the bars. All the while Daniel observed his every movement, keeping the barrel of the gun aimed at him. The man looked at him full in the face, grinning, holding the branch menacingly as he advanced. “Come on, Englishman,” he crooned. “If you work with us, maybe we'll let you live.”  
  
“And if I don't?”  
  
The man didn't bother to answer. With an almighty yell he rushed towards the brunette, branch held high. Daniel pulled the trigger once, twice; the first one merely grazed the man's shoulder; the second one found its mark and sank deep into his chest. The man keeled over on the icy ground and moved no more, a pool off blood slowly forming beneath him.  
  
The silence that followed was absolute. The villagers seemed frozen with shock, all eyes on their fallen comrade. Daniel stepped forwards and poked him with his shoe, but there was no reaction from the man. His eyes stared unblinkingly into the skies above, glazed over and empty, and Daniel knew he was dead. He turned back to look at the villagers.  
  
“You were warned. You did not listen,” he spoke calmly, stepping over the corpse without a backwards glance. “Tell me, is there someone else among you foolish enough to try his luck?”  
  
“Murderer,” someone whispered. Daniel could see some of the men back away from the gates. “You killed him!”  
  
The brunette cocked his head, and without knowing why he found himself smiling. He aimed the pistol at the men behind the gates, his hand perfectly still. There were too many of them, he knew; if they got the gates open they'd easily overpower him, no matter how many shots he fired.  
  
_Ah, well,_ Daniel thought. _I'd rather die like this than begging for mercy.  
  
_ The men shouted at one another and resumed their efforts to prise the gates open, and Daniel didn't wait for them to get any further. He aimed and fired again, and one of the men collapsed; one shot, two shots, and one of his fellows roared with pain, the second bullet piercing his shoulder. Daniel heard none of their cries of pain or shouts of fury; he shut out all else but the gun and its target, concentration never wavering. He saw the villagers fight against the gates furiously, heard the aged metal screech as though in pain as it slowly gave in and the lock finally broke under the sheer desperation of their efforts, but he stood still and fired again and again even as the gates were thrown open. Another man charged directly towards him and fell some three feet before crashing into him; Daniel felt blood splatter on his face as the bullet sunk right into the man's forehead.  
  
The scene around him was chaos. He was too slow with his bad leg to prevent the men from entering the castle, and someone shoved him out of the way as he made to interfere. Daniel stumbled sideways and someone grabbed him by the arm roughly.  
  
“Let go of me, vermin!” he cried and shot once more. The hand around his arm went lax and let go, its owner falling to his knees. Daniel pulled the trigger again but the only response he received was a faint _click_ , the magazine empty. He cursed under his breath, tossing the pistol aside. He heard crashing noises from inside the castle and knew the men must be turning the place inside-out in their search of Alexander. Daniel reached inside his overcoat, pulling out a dagger. He charged at the wounded man kneeling on the ground, fingers tangling into his hair and roughly forcing his head up. “I guess I'll have to do this the old-fashioned way,” Daniel spat and slit the man's neck with one fluid movement.  
  
He was still staring at the dying man when another came at him, yelling, and Daniel felt something hit the side of his face. He thought he tasted blood but there was no time to investigate – he made to stab the man but he was too slow and the man grabbed his wrists. Daniel grit his teeth, trying to pull his hands free. The man's chest heaved with the effort of holding him still and Daniel felt flecks of spit hit his face as the man bellowed at him to quit struggling. None of the others seemed to pay their private battle any mind; there was the sound of shattering glass somewhere, the continued yells of the villagers as they searched the castle, but the courtyard had gone silent.  
  
Daniel locked eyes with the man in front of him, and something primal in him roused its head. He could see the man's pulse on his neck so clearly, unprotected, and he yearned to sink the dagger there all the way to its hilt. He tried to wrench his hands free, bringing the dagger as close to the man's face as he could, but his opponent was much taller than him, and clearly stronger.  
  
“Give up, foreigner,” the man panted. Daniel felt himself slipping backwards on the icy ground, and it took all of his strength to push back.  
  
“You think I'll let you in my master's domain just like that?” Daniel ground out, just as out of breath. The blow to his head was making him feel dizzy. “Don't make me laugh!”  
  
His opponent gave him a shove, catching him off guard and nearly forcing him off balance. “Your 'master' is finished, you stupid whore,” the man said harshly, eyes narrowed. “The duke's soldiers will see to that if we don't kill him first. You, though...” His grip around Daniel's wrists tightened. “Want to know what we do to men like you over here?”  
  
“You'll do nothing,” Daniel hissed. “I'll cut you open and make you bleed like a gutted pig once I get my hands on you!”  
  
The man let out an enraged shout. They struggled furiously for several short seconds until Daniel's foot made contact with the man's shin; he slipped, still gripping the Englishman, and they both fell over. Daniel felt his head hit the cold, hard ground and next to him he heard the faint groaning of the other man. Daniel registered faintly that his hands were free, one still clutching the dagger, and, as though acting upon some suppressed instinct he launched himself on the dazed man and plunged the dagger into his neck. The man's limbs convulsed revoltingly, blood spurting from the wound, but Daniel merely pushed the blade deeper, holding him down with all the strength he could muster until the man stopped twitching.  
  
His head was spinning worse than ever. The place where he'd hit his head throbbed and his legs shook violently as soon as he tried to get back up. Someone was shouting again, closer this time. He heard running footsteps thundering down the stairs; the shouting was coming closer, repeating someone's name, and Daniel cast a quick glance at the man he'd just killed.  
  
“Where the hell is the baron?” came a yell from inside the castle, accompanied with a resounding crash.  
  
“Search the other wing!”  
  
The footsteps came ever closer. “Where's that foreigner? Bring the foreigner here, he can show us where that demon's hiding!”  
  
“Wilhelm! Hubert! Did you capture him ye—“  
  
Someone stepped out on the courtyard again and came to a skidding halt almost as soon as he was over the threshold. Daniel could hear him gasp audibly.  
  
“Oh, my God! Wilhelm!” the newcomer said, his voice trembling. “ _What the hell did you do to him?_ “  
  
Daniel managed to focus his eyes on the man. He pulled the dagger free from the dead man's neck and pointed it at the man now standing in front of him, hand shaking slightly.  
  
“Come closer if you want to die just like your friend,” Daniel panted. He knew it was no good; he couldn't even get up any more, much less take on yet another opponent. The man seemed to realise this and he picked up a shovel left behind by someone, staring down at Daniel with wild eyes.  
  
“You're finished, bastard.”  
  
All Daniel could do was grin.  
  
_This is it, then,_ he thought. He gripped the dagger as hard as he could. The man charged with a furious yell and Daniel held his breath, dagger at the ready for one last desperate attempt at self-defense, but the impact never came. There was a snarl and the sound of a body slamming against something hard and then, a loud crack like a gunshot. When Daniel looked up the man lay dead on the ground some twenty feet from him, neck bent at an unnatural angle. He blinked slowly, trying to make sense of the sight.  
  
“Are you alright?”  
  
Daniel's heart skipped a beat at the voice; he looked around wildly and the dagger fell from his grip. Alexander was standing over the corpse of the man, looking like he'd been travelling for days, clothes ripped and stained with dirt and hair a tangled mess, but his eyes were like steel – just as cold, sharp and deadly. Hatred was etched deeply into every line on his face, and Daniel's blood sang at the sight of him.  
  
“Alexander,” he whispered, scrambling to get up. The baron's eyes softened momentarily as they looked at each other but he held up his hand and Daniel slumped back on the ground.  
  
“Stay here,” Alexander told the younger man. He stepped over the body, eyes ablaze, and entered the castle without a backwards glance. Daniel could only stare after him. He was shaking from head to toe and he wanted to believe, just for a second, that he'd seen a ghost, that the baron wasn't actually there and this was all some cruel delusion his mind had pieced together to taunt him with at the moment of his death… but then the screaming started, loud and panicked, and Daniel knew not a single one of the villagers would escape the castle alive. He tried to shut his ears from the horrid noise but it was no use; even if he clapped his hands over his ears the noise pierced into his brain.  
  
He couldn't tell how long it went on. It was the same each time – a drawnout scream that ended abruptly, only to be followed by the yells of the living townspeople. Then, after a long last, all the voices were gone, truly, finally gone, and all Daniel could hear was the quiet whistling of wind. He got up uncertainly, still weak after the blow to his head, and very slowly made his way to the entrance hall.  
  
It was a mess indoors. One of the windows up the stairs had been smashed, some of the curtains pulled down and ripped. A set of candelabras had fallen over, candle wax splattered on the carpet. Daniel was amazed they hadn't managed to set anything on fire; the carpet was singed in a few placed, but that was all. There were bloodstains on the stairs and, at the very corner of the room, the body of a man lying on his stomach.  
  
“Alexander?” he called out but his voice came out as nothing but a hoarse whisper. He stepped across the hall gingerly, expecting someone to come charging at him, but nothing happened. He was feeling very strange; the odd tingling from before crawled up his spine like some scuttling, many-legged thing, stronger than it had been. Daniel touched his head and winced, finding the spot he'd smashed on the ground earlier. It was still sore, certainly, but he hadn't thought it anything serious. Perhaps he'd damaged something worse than he'd thought...  
  
He heard a door open and Alexander came in through the servants' wing. He looked even worse than earlier – his front was stained copiously with blood and Daniel stopped dead on his tracks at the sight of him. They simply beheld each other in silence for the longest of times until the distance became unbearable, and Alexander came running down the stairs and wrapped him in his arms. The elder let out a small sound of anguish as he buried his face in the brunette's hair.  
  
“You are bleeding,” he said in a muffled voice.  
  
“I hit my head earlier,” Daniel replied. He leaned against Alexander wearily without caring that the elder looked like he'd just risen from a charnel pit. He was radiating heat even through his clothes and Daniel felt drawn to it instinctively, despite knowing whom he'd just fed on. Alexander's arms tightened around him and Daniel simply let himself be held, too tired for questions, too tired for anything but the fact that he was back unharmed; that he was truly, really here.  
  
“You look like you've been through hell and back again.”  
  
“In a manner of speaking,” the brunette said. His head was pounding dully. “You don't look much better.”  
  
The baron laughed softly. “No, I suppose I don't.”  
  
Daniel cupped his face between his bloodied hands and kissed him, long and hard. So many weeks had passed that it felt like kissing him for the very first time, as though only now realising just how substantial he was, and Daniel found himself claiming his lips again and again until his mind accepted that he was real.  
  
“What happened? Where have you been?” he finally asked, breaking away from the other man. Alexander placed a kiss on his forehead before answering.  
  
“Later, my love,” he told him. “We cannot leave these corpses lying around – and something must be done to the gates. I'd rather not see any more trespassers in this castle if it can be avoided.”  
  
“But—“  
  
“There will be time for questions later, Daniel. Go bathe; I daresay you've had a rough night.”  


* * *

  
During the time it took for the bath water to heat Daniel wandered around the left wing aimlessly, assessing the damage. Cabinets lay overturned, books spilled across the floors; pages had been ripped off and scattered all over. Someone had even taken down a painting or two, supposedly in search of some secret mechanism, Daniel thought gloomily. Most depressing of all was the condition of his own private quarters. An armchair had been smashed and the tall, gilded mirror in his bedroom had fallen over and shattered. Most of his personal belongings had been tossed out of the wardrobe and shelves, and the hanging of his four-poster bed had been ripped down.  
  
He had been relieved to find Hazel's portrait wedged behind the bedside table, fallen out of sight but otherwise unharmed. He placed it back on its proper place and, sighing, started picking up things and putting them back in the shelves.  
  
Somehow, seeing his room in such a state made him feel much worse than he'd felt after the attack in Altstadt. It felt like a personal slight; those hostile hands that had touched his private possessions seemed to have soiled them for him and twisted their importance into something indecent. The mere thought of having to sleep in this room made his skin crawl, and he knew he'd never find rest there again.  
  
Sinking into a tub of hot water had never felt better and he submerged himself entirely. The sore spot at the back of his head stung and he massaged it gently underwater, hoping it would suffice to clean the wound.  
  
He'd only been sitting in the tub for some five minutes until he heard the door to the drawing room open, then close again. A moment later someone knocked on the bathroom door.  
  
“Daniel?” called the baron's voice.  
  
“Come in. I haven't locked the door.”  
  
Alexander looked weary, but his appearance was much improved by clean clothes. There wasn't a trace of blood or dirt on his face anymore – he looked pristinely clean in white linen, an odd contrast to what had transpired before. If Daniel hadn't known better he would have thought the elder was merely getting ready for bed.  
  
“Did you gather the bodies?” Daniel asked.  
  
The baron nodded, carefully sitting on the edge of the tub. “We'll have to burn them later. Not that it matters – the disappearance of so many men will hardly go unnoticed.”  
  
“What do you think will happen next?”  
  
“We'll eventually find the duke's soldiers at our doorstep, I'm afraid.”  
  
Daniel sighed. “What happened to you, Alexander? Where have you been all these weeks?”  
  
“It was much as I assumed. Rumours about what happened in Altstadt had reached the duke's ears, and he'd decided to play it against me.” The baron's expression hardened. “He tried to apprehend me, and I was forced to flee.”  
  
“Did you... kill him?”  
  
Alexander laughed dryly. “As tempting as it was, no. The soldiers he sent after me upon noticing I was missing, well, I had little choice but to dispose of them.”  
  
“Gabriel said the driver came back to the village with an empty carriage.”  
  
“I was forced to travel by foot,” the baron said. “It was my only option if I wanted to avoid detection.”  
  
“I thought you were dead,” Daniel blurted out. It came out angrier than he'd intended and the baron winced visibly at his tone.  
  
“I'm sorry,” Alexander said quietly. He got up, picking up a bar of soap. “Let me help. You still have blood in your hair.”  
  
Daniel didn't interrupt him as he slowly washed his hair and worked out the tangles with a comb. The bath water had turned pink by the time Alexander had gotten all the clogged up blood off his hair, but when the elder offered to wash his back he didn't protest. Little by little the stress of the past weeks ebbed away from his bones and Daniel relaxed in his hands, his eyes slipping closed.  
  
“I'm glad you came back,” he muttered. Alexander's hands stilled for a moment and Daniel felt him press a kiss at the nape of his neck.  
  
“I am sorry to have caused you such worry.”  
  
Daniel shook his head, sighing. “I'm not blaming you, Alexander. I know you didn't have a choice.”  
  
They didn't speak much after that; Daniel assumed they were both much too exhausted for conversation. Alexander helped him dry himself off and get dressed in clean clothes, and Daniel suppressed a yawn as they exited the bathroom afterwards. It was still dark out, but he had a feeling dawn could not be much further now.  
  
“Two hours till sunrise,” Alexander murmured, confirming his doubts. Daniel merely nodded. The night had felt endless. It seemed impossible it had been only several hours previously that the villagers had broken through the gates and barged in.  
  
“Will we be safe here for now?”  
  
“I doubt anyone will come looking for the missing men tomorrow,” Alexander reassured him. “And the duke's soldiers won't make it to Altstadt until the weather allows it – there is still quite a lot of snow on the roads, you know.”  
  
“I hope you're right.” Daniel looked around the drawing room. He was almost certain that Alexander had killed one of the men there, judging by the blood stains on the carpet. “I think the villagers believed these were your quarters. It doesn't look like they bothered much with the right wing.”  
  
“They were looking for me, weren't they?”  
  
“Who else?” Daniel sighed again. “Let me spend the night in your room. I don't think I can sleep here.”  
  
Alexander didn't ask why. He simply took him by the hand and they walked across the quiet halls together without talking, and when they by-passed the staircase Daniel kept his eyes firmly on the floor, refusing to acknowledge the sight of corpses piled in the entrance hall.  
  
Alexander's quarters were indeed much tidier – some of his clothes had been pulled out of the wardrobe and some furniture in the old study had been moved aside, but otherwise his rooms looked virtually untouched.  
  
For the longest of times they simply lay side by side without speaking and Daniel let his eyes slip closed. The crackling of fire in the fireplace was comforting, something normal to ween one's mind off all the bloodshed he'd seen that day. By some miracle he was still alive; he ought to thank his stars for that. Gabriel's instructions from days ago repeated in his head monotonously every time he tried to think back on the dead men. ' _Don't bend your wrist.' 'Aim carefully, don't panic if you don't hit the target on the first try.' 'Focus on your target and shut out distractions.'_ He felt like his insides were made of ice. They hadn't listened. He'd had no choice.  
  
He let out a shuddering sigh, and Alexander squeezed his hand reassuringly.  
  
“If only they'd listened to me,” Daniel mumbled.  
  
“Where did you get the gun?”  
  
“The outrider gave it to me – taught me how to shoot. He… he said I might have to protect myself, if the villagers continued acting like this.” He sighed again. “This wasn't the first time they came here, looking for you.”  
  
“It was only a matter of time, I suppose.”  
  
“It was their own fault! I wouldn't have killed anyone if they had but listened,” Daniel said bitterly.  
  
He heard the rustling of sheets and when he opened his eyes he found the elder leaning over him, a concerned frown on his face.  
  
“You'll have to leave soon, won't you?” Daniel asked. “Go into hiding again and pass out of living memory?”  
  
“I am running out of options,” Alexander admitted. He pressed a small kiss on the younger man's brow. “Brennenburg is not safe any more.”  
  
Daniel pulled him closer, his body heat irresistible. So many weeks alone in these drafty halls had set a permanent chill in his bones and he yearned to feel warm again, just to remember what it meant to feel safe. For once, Alexander seemed to have fed his fill; he was so warm that it felt like embracing a furnace, or perhaps it was simply because it had been so long since they'd been this close to one another. He could feel the baron caressing him through his clothes decisively, as though looking for something.  
  
“You have gotten very thin,” Alexander said, pulling away. There was a note of disapproval in his voice. “Have you been eating at all in my absence?”  
  
“Probably not quite enough. I find my appetite has been… lacking.”  
  
The elder sighed. “I'd ask you not to starve yourself so. It's not good for you.”  
  
He unbuttoned Daniel's shirt slowly, pausing to pepper each inch of skin that was revealed with kisses. His touches were scalding and left a tingling echo behind wherever he had been, an aching to be touched again, and Daniel felt that strange pull in his blood again. It worsened each time Alexander pulled away, only to be quietened when his hands roamed across the brunette's skin once more, and suddenly Daniel understood.

“The vampyre blood,” he thought out loud.  
  
“What did you say?”  
  
“Your blood. Earlier, I felt something pulling me into the night, to face the villagers. Or I thought it was pulling me to them, at least,” Daniel continued. He frowned, trying to recall the feeling. “It was this feeling of being led, like something whispering to me. Like I could sense a presence that I couldn't see. And then later, when you came back – and every time you touch me it's there, this strange... tingling. I think… I think I can feel whenever you are close to me.”  
  
The baron stared at him.  
  
“You said so before, didn't you? That by sharing your blood you are sharing a part of your power?”  
  
“I did not know it would affect you thus,” Alexander said slowly. There was a curious expression on his face. “The feeling you just described is more or less what my kind experiences whenever we are close to one another. Our blood alerts us to the presence of others, even at a distance.”  
  
“What a curious ability.”  
  
Making love to him like this was heady – the thrill of their bodies pressed together whenever they were touching, then the pull in his blood whenever they weren't. Not feeling Alexander was maddening, Daniel thought, now that he knew what was drawing him to the baron. Despite the approaching dawn they lingered, with slow, exploring touches and hushed voices, fingers laced together until it became overwhelming and they both yearned for the warm embrace of sleep.  
  
“Alexander?” His voice was drowsy. It had been so many days since he'd last been able to rest properly.  
  
“Yes?”  
  
“Will you turn me?”  
  
He felt a finger trace the edge of his collar bone, but the baron said nothing.  
  
“When it's time for you to leave, I'll come with you. I _will_ , no matter what you say,” Daniel went on. “Turn me. So that I can stay with you.”  
  
“You know the risks.”  
  
“I do.”  
  
Alexander's breath ghosted against his neck, warm and inviting. “You'd bind yourself to me for all eternity?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
The brunette made to sit up but Alexander pushed him back down, chuckling. “Not now, my love. Get some rest.”  
  
“What's the point of waiting? The sooner it's over the better, surely.”  
  
“Because your body needs its rest,” the baron said soothingly. “Sleep, and eat properly tomorrow. You'll need all the strength you can muster if you want to survive the turning. And...”  
  
“And?”  
  
“You may want to go out. You wouldn't want to miss the last sunrise of your life.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *cracks knuckles* Oh me, oh my, have I waited to get this chapter out or what! I'm not gonna lie, I've been waiting for a long, long time for Daniel to step up his game. Alexander can be terrifying, no question about that, but Daniel is something entirely different, a loose cannon, that I'm personally more afraid of him than the baron. But maybe that's just me.
> 
> If you're wondering why it's taking me so long to squeeze these last chapters out, it's because I tend to write in a bulk so that I have several chapters of raw text ready at once to keep the style/mood consistent... and because these chapters have been slightly longer. I have to admit I'm also slightly sad about having to let go of this story and move on to something else - it has become very dear to me during these... how many months has it been? *counts* 7 months? Seriously? Well, no wonder then! I've never worked on any creative project for this long, not consistently, anyway.
> 
> The next chapter... the next chapter. Well. That'll be it. It's the end. Probably. You'll just have to wait and see what will happen.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “My fall will be for you  
> My love will be in you  
> If you be the one to cut me  
> I'll bleed forever”
> 
> Nightwish – Ghost Love Score

_January 1842_

He must have been lying down for an hour at the most when he woke with a start and couldn't go back to sleep any more. Daniel couldn't tell what had roused him; it was as dark as ever in Alexander's chambers, but he couldn't shake off the feeling in his gut that he had to get up immediately. He dressed as quickly as he could and tip-toed out of the room, closing the door after himself quietly. It was only when he'd exited the right wing that his stomach let out a wail, and Daniel realised he was famished.

“Well, that would certainly explain it,” he told himself, giving his stomach a pat. He wasn't sure if he'd eaten at all the day before; if he were entirely frank with himself he couldn't recall when he'd last been to the kitchen.  
  
Dawn was only a stone's throw away, dressing the halls in pale twilight. He prepared himself the largest breakfast he could with what little ingredients there were left – a whole pile of sliced, dry ham, and thick pieces of bread lathered copiously with butter. There were only two eggs left that were still edible and Daniel fried them, relishing the smell of grease that was making his mouth water. It was a sad sight, the empty cupboards, knowing that they'd never be filled again. He supposed it was no matter; there would be no one left to eat in Brennenburg, not after the day was over.  
  
He piled the food and his tea supplies on the largest tray they had and slowly limped out of the kitchen with it. His leg was stiff but he kept a slow pace, and it didn't hinder him much.  
  
It seemed that the weather favoured him for once. He'd feared he'd find the sky overcast and murky, blocking out the sun, but the daybreak was almost entirely cloudless. He ate his breakfast staring out of the windows in the library, watching the sky slowly turn from blue to purple to pink, stars vanishing from view one by one. The sun was so distant in the middle of winter yet its rays felt warm on his face, and Daniel could only hold his breath, admiring what was surely the most glorious sunrise of his life. It felt strange to think that Alexander hadn't experienced this in centuries, or that the same fate awaited him now.  
  
He waited for some wave of sadness to hit him as he thought about it, the inevitable loss of the sun and its warmth, but nothing came to him, and he knew why; he had been living for the night and its long hours of moonlight for such a while already that it felt only natural. He supposed he'd mourn some aspects of mortality along the way – he'd never be able to return to London, for one, or see professor Herbert or his other colleagues ever again… The idea stung, but not as much as it might have before. He had already given up on going back when he'd arrived in Brennenburg.  
  
_I'll need blood to sustain myself,_ Daniel thought, eyes unfocused. _Am I truly capable of that? Could I kill to survive?_  
  
And then he thought back on the dead villagers, the slaughter of the night before, and the answers came to him in a flash. Of course he could. If he couldn't, it would be his corpse rotting out there instead of theirs.  
  
“I wish I could have something more impressive for my last meals than dried ham,” he thought out loud. He had never been a connoisseur when it came to food, but suddenly the thought of never eating again seemed almost painful. Tea he knew for sure he'd miss, and freshly baked scones with butter. He thought longingly of the steak and kidney pie Herbert's wife had served on those rare occasions when he'd visited his professor at his house, and even of the partially burned bacon Hazel had once made for him before she had become too ill to stay at home.  
  
He didn't know how long he sat there, eyes on the horizon. He should have felt exhausted after yet another night of barely any rest but all his senses seemed heightened, too aware of his surroundings, attempting to burn every little detail into his memory. Dust particles dancing in golden sunlight, light reflecting from the window panes; the frost on the ground and the trees made the woodlands appear as though they were encrusted with millions of diamonds, sparkling in the light. It was so bright that it made Daniel's eyes water yet he could not look away, and when he'd finally looked his fill he realised his tea had gone cold.  


* * *

  
The acrid smell of smoke burned his eyes and made him cough. It seemed to follow him everywhere, no matter where on the grounds he ventured. Daniel glanced over his shoulder at the burning shed. Carrying – or rather, dragging – the bodies one by one into the little building had taken him a greater part of the morning, and though his back ached from the effort there was certain satisfaction in seeing the storage go up in smoke.  
  
Perhaps he could have waited till nightfall and for Alexander's assistance, but… There was no way to tell how long it would be until the villagers would come looking for the missing men. The Englishman had known since the incident in Altstadt that they'd have to leave the castle eventually; there was hardly any harm in destroying evidence if they had to leave everything behind, anyway. He hoped the pillar of smoke would have the townspeople thinking the men were busy pillaging and destroying the baron's estate and would not bother coming over for a few days.  
  
The wind turned and blew smoke into his eyes, making them water. Daniel coughed, walking away from the burning building. He supposed they could always torch the castle upon leaving if need be. The thought saddened him, but he could see why it might be practical. No one would try hunting after Alexander any longer if they believed the baron, his caretaker and the men had all died in the fire.  
  
He found himself wandering aimlessly around the grounds, pausing here and there. His roses would bloom again come summer, the apples trees would bear fruit, and no one would be there to pick the fruit or to water the flowers. This, he thought, this he'd miss; the castle and its surroundings, the memories. Where would they go if they left Brennenburg? Would it be safe for them anywhere? He could see a long, winding path extending in front of them without a clue where it would lead. Perhaps they'd have to leave Prussia altogether, venture someplace where they wouldn't risk a member of the Order recognising Alexander by accident.  
  
Behind him the walls of the shed gave in and collapsed, sending sparks everywhere.  


* * *

  
Time had never moved so slowly than that day, watching the day's march towards a tentative evening. Daniel tried to sit still to sort out his belongings but his mind began wandering as soon as he tried. He found himself prowling the castle listlessly until his leg complained from the exercise. Perhaps it was for the best; he couldn't figure out what he was looking for, if anything. There was something upsetting about seeing the ruined state of Brennenburg and he knew, deep down, that no matter how much the castle had become his home over the past year, he would be glad to leave it behind. Whatever security it had once provided was no longer there, its sanctity breached.  
  
Finally, the scales tipped towards a falling dusk, shadows in the hallways growing longer and longer until they vanished altogether, making way for a velvety night.  
  
It wasn't long after the sun had disappeared below the horizon that the door of the library creaked open.  
  
“Have you been here for long?”  
  
Daniel smiled in response, but didn't bother looking up from his writing. The journal lay open on his lap, his hand tracing line after line of fresh text. All that had transpired in the days leading up to this, he'd documented it all. A part of him feared that his memory wouldn't stay true to what had happened if he didn't record it somewhere; another part feared that there would be no one left alive to remember it all before the night was over.  
  
“You never came back to bed last night.”  
  
“It was almost dawn already when we last conversed,” Daniel reminded him. “It seemed unnecessary to lay down again.”  
  
“I told you that you needed rest,” the baron chided.  
  
“I know, but I doubt I could have slept. I had too much on my mind,” he shrugged. He finished the last line with a flourish and set the journal aside to dry. When he looked up Alexander stood beside him, though he hadn't heard him move a muscle.  
  
“I see you have made some arrangements in my absence.”  
  
“The bodies had to be disposed of,” Daniel said.  
  
“Naturally,” the elder nodded. “But you could have waited for me to assist you and thus avoid straining yourself. How is your leg?”  
  
“Much the same as before.” Daniel paused, suddenly thoughtful. “Would it be different? After the turning, I mean. Do you think my leg would be better again?”  
  
“I should assume so. Not all injuries sustained in life are made whole by the turning – had you lost a limb you would not miraculously regrow it, for example – but something minor like this? Yes, I think it should be better afterwards.”  
  
“Is there no way to tell?”  
  
Alexander flashed him a crooked smile. “Survive the turning and we'll find out, won't we?”  
  
“Oh, very funny.”  
  
The baron laid a hand on his shoulder, giving it a careful squeeze. There was a pensive look on his face. “Would you dance with me once more, Daniel?”  
  
“Now? Shouldn't we get to work already?”  
  
“There's no rush, I assure you,” Alexander said softly. He bent closer so that their lips brushed against one another's when he spoke. “I'd like to hold you while you are still mortal.”  
  
And with that he kissed him, gently, slowly. There was a tremour to his hands as they cupped the brunette's face, and Daniel knew that he was afraid. He let the elder pull him up and lead him further away where they'd have the space to move freely, and once there, Alexander gathered him in his arms and kissed him just once more.  
  
“Let me lead tonight,” the baron requested.  
  
It could hardly be called dancing, Daniel thought. It was more that they spun on the spot slowly to an unheard melody with little regard to proper steps or choreography. One look at Alexander's face told him that the elder's mind was preoccupied, a vacant look in his eyes.  
  
“What happened at the gathering?”  
  
The elder blinked, as though shaken from a reverie. He didn't answer immediately and Daniel waited, eyes fixed on him expectantly. Alexander halted but didn't let go of him.  
  
“There isn't much to be said about the gathering itself,” the elder began. He sounded as though he was choosing his words with care. “It is naught but self-important men spewing formalities at one another.”  
  
“And?”  
  
“I brought my concern over the disappearances in my barony to the knowledge of the Order, and the duke was quick to echo my words.” Alexander smiled coldly. “You'll be delighted, I am sure, to hear that he was most sympathetic to hear a faithful servant of mine had been unjustly attacked by one of his soldiers.”  
  
“I'm sure he was,” Daniel muttered.  
  
“He lamented that such an unfortunate _mistake_ had taken place in his name, of course,” the baron continued. Daniel felt his arm tighten around his waist momentarily. “He gathered the sympathies of the nobility by assuring most adamantly that the soldier in question would be demoted and punished for his actions. He is a clever man, the duke Hohenzollern – he knows how to make most of any given situation. I have no doubt he'd been preparing his speech ever since the sheriff returned to him.”  
  
“Did you tell them, though? That you'd already punished him?”  
  
“I saw it best to make no mention of it, but I knew as soon as the duke laid his eyes on me that he was well aware of what had transpired in Altstadt. It may have even been a trap, sending the sheriff here, knowing that sooner or later I'd be forced to deal with him...”  
  
“That wouldn't surprise me,” the brunette agreed, thinking about the sheriff. Undoubtedly the man had run back to his master with his tail between his legs, a juicy story as his bait.  
  
Alexander shook his head in distaste. “It may have been hasty on my part to act so rashly; it only served to hand the duke weapons to use against me.” There was a glint of steel in his eyes when he continued. “The wretched man has been waiting for me to roll over and die without an heir, for the name of Brennenburg to be buried with me so that he could place another family in my place, Daniel, for another man to be given my title. He has grown impatient, watching me live on – and in the end, he decided to dispose of me himself.”  
  
Daniel swallowed, but the lump in his throat persisted still. There was something in the baron's eyes that made his blood run cold all of a sudden. “What happened?”  
  
“His Grace paid me a visit in the dead of the night like some common burglar, bringing his soldiers with him,” Alexander all but growled. “He thought to inform the Order the next day that the journey had weakened me greatly and I'd been found dead in my room. The duke took a dagger and struck me with it, burying it in my chest while his soldiers stood witness.”  
  
Daniel couldn't help himself flinching at this, though the baron stood in front of him as whole and unharmed as ever. His hands shook with fury.  
  
“He tried to _kill_ you? That conspiring bastard—”  
  
Alexander let go of him and unbuttoned his shirt, placing a hand over where his heart lay. Not a single scar marred the skin there. “His attack left no mark. But I bleed as mortal men bleed, as you very well know, and so I crumpled on the floor, much to the duke's amusement. He left two of his soldiers behind to witness my passing, telling them to clean up the mess afterwards. The fool!”  
  
“What then? You killed the soldiers and made a run for it?”  
  
“I killed the soldiers,” the baron said, echoing him as he buttoned up his shirt again. He looked angrier than Daniel had ever seen him, and it transformed his face into something savage and terrible. His amber eyes seemed to be boiling in their sockets, and the Englishman knew the soldiers had paid for the duke's mistake dearly. “I drained them to the last drop and then smashed an oil lamp against the floor, setting the room on fire. Every thought in my head screamed for me to hunt down the duke and tear him limb from limb, but I resisted the urge and fled into the night.”  
  
“I would have gone after him, had it been me,” Daniel ground out. He became aware that his hands had balled into fists at some point.  
  
“I know,” the baron replied, and he managed a small smile. “And that, my love, is one of the reasons why I didn't bring you along.”  
  
“What, so that I wouldn't do what's justified?”  
  
“So that you wouldn't do anything impulsive,” Alexander corrected him.  
  
“He would have deserved it.”  
  
“Perhaps so,” the elder nodded. “But there was nothing to be gained from killing him. I knew long ago that I'd all but used up the possibilities of this disguise, and that sooner or later I'd be forced to leave.”  
  
“Where will we go, though?” Daniel asked, voicing the one question that had been on his mind all day long. “If we have to leave, where are we headed to?”  
  
“I don't know. Where would you like to go?”  
  
The younger man stared at him. If he'd been expecting an answer, it wasn't this.  
  
“Me? I don't know… shouldn't you be the one to decide?”  
  
“Perhaps – if I were going alone.”  
  
Daniel frowned, trying to think of something. His mind was suddenly curiously blank, though he knew for sure that once upon a time he could have listed a hundred places he wanted to see if he could choose to travel wherever his heart desired. He thought back on the yellowed maps professor Herbert had had in his office, of all the exotic locations they'd planned to visit should they receive the funds necessary. He'd love to see Algeria once more, that was for sure, or to journey to the fabled river Nile… to think he'd never had the chance to excavate in Egypt! But no, the African sun would be too much of a risk and they would stand out like a sore thumb, two white Europeans on a leisure trip. Daniel scratched his head, absent-mindedly pacing around as he racked his brain for something less risky.  
  
“Have you ever been to Venice?” he said after a while, brows still knit together as he thought.  
  
“Venice? No, I cannot say I have,” Alexander replied.  
  
“It's an enthralling place. Not so much in the middle of winter, mind, but it won't be too long until spring. No other city in Europe is quite like it. You'd love the libraries, the palazzos… the mere thought that you're treading the same ground as all the great philosophers and artists of old is dizzying.” Daniel coughed, coming to an abrupt stop. The baron was watching him curiously, and the brunette felt his face reddening.  
  
“You have certainly been there before,” Alexander concluded, smiling slightly. Daniel nodded, decisively looking away from him.  
  
“One never has enough time to explore when travelling for work,” he said. “I doubt a lifetime would be enough to explore all the city has to offer.”  
  
“And how many lifetimes would it take?”  
  
Their eyes met again, and Daniel's voice shook when he answered.  
  
“Infinite.”  
  
Alexander walked up to him and brought his hands around the brunette's neck. He opened the topmost buttons slowly, folding back the collar to fully expose his neck.  
  
“And if I were to gift you with infinite lifetimes, would you accept?” the baron said quietly, a thumb tracing the younger man's jawline. “Would you bind yourself to me, body and soul, forever?”  
  
“You've asked me this before—”  
  
“There is no going back once you head down this road. I want to know that your answer hasn't changed.”  
  
“My answer has been the same for months,” Daniel said, dead solemn. “Turn me. I want to stay with you.”  
  
“Forever?”  
  
“Forever, and far longer than that.”  
  
Alexander pressed a kiss on his cheek, tangling his fingers in the Englishman's hair. Daniel thought he felt his hands shaking. “We'll be closer than husband and wife, Daniel,” the baron whispered frantically. “Blood of my blood, bone of my bone; we'll be master and fledgling, two halves of the same whole—“  
  
Daniel claimed his lips and kissed him hard, drawing a muffled groan from the other man.  
  
“I thought you were averse to marriage,” Daniel breathed, breaking the kiss.  
  
“Ours will be something much better – a marriage of blood. It's a bond that cannot be broken once forged.”  
  
“What happened to the vampyre who made you if that's the case?”  
  
Alexander smirked. “I killed him, Daniel. You can never hide from one you've created yourself; it was no effort for me to track him down and destroy the bond tying me to him.”  
  
“Did you ever find out why he'd turned you?”  
  
“The most simple of reasons – he wanted an army of his own, a clan of sorts, if you will,” the baron said. His fangs flashed as his grin widened. “Most of our kind waste their time on petty vendettas and pointless wars that can have no victor. I am not to be tied down to such foolishness; the night is mine to roam as I please.”  
  
Daniel couldn't help but answer the smile with one of his own. His blood sang at their closeness and he wondered, for the hundredth time it seemed, how he'd be able to lie down to rest if the bond pulling him to the other man was there all the time, stronger even than it was now. He reached out, stroking Alexander's cheek with his hand.  
  
“You do realise that you could be creating your own worst enemy by turning me? By giving me weapons that I could use against you?” he asked, a playful lilt to his voice that made the elder smile wider.  
  
“I think I am willing to take that risk,” Alexander answered. “If it'll keep you by my side.”  
  
The vampyre's fangs were so sharp and white, whiter than the moon herself in the pale light, and Daniel drew a finger teasingly across the baron's bottom lip even as his eyes were fixated on those fangs. Then he pulled his hand away, quietly shed his waistcoat and unbuttoned the rest of his shirt, until he was bare to his waist. Alexander exhaled slowly as he took in the shape of him, pale and skinny as ever, and the brunette all but shivered when the baron collected him in his arms once again and embraced him tightly.  
  
“I love you,” the baron whispered against his neck. Daniel sighed as the elder placed demanding kisses upon his bared skin, his touch warm with fresh blood.  
  
“How wonderful that sounds coming from you,” Daniel murmured, arms wound tight around Alexander. The hammering of his heart sounded so loud all of a sudden, as though it knew its run was coming to an end. It made him more aware than ever of how its beating sent his fingertips trembling, a gentle drumming in his limbs and organs, all woven together to make a living, breathing human being. Alexander's mouth ghosted over his jugular, no doubt listening to that same rhythm, and he placed another kiss right over it.  
  
“It's time.”  
  
“I know,” Daniel said. His mouth felt dry all of a sudden.  
  
Alexander said nothing for a long time, simply cradling the younger man in his arms. Then, as though going through some internal struggle, he inhaled shakily and pulled back just enough to look him in the eye.  
  
“Should anything go wrong tonight… should you not make it...” the baron managed. “Should this be goodbye, I want this to be the last thing I said to you. _I love you._ ”  
  
“I love you, too,” Daniel whispered, and for the first time since his arrival in Brennenburg, he felt truly afraid. The look they shared felt like an eternity. With painstaking gentleness the vampyre bent low to kiss his neck one last time, and then, without a warning, his needle-sharp fangs had sunk into the brunette's flesh.  
  
Alexander's arms around his waist were an anchor, keeping him steady when his knees buckled and his grip on the elder became lax. It was just as before, the pleasure that suddenly parted the veil of pain and seeped into his body, only this time it felt as if it would never end. He thought that surely, he was on the verge of drifting off into sleep; his mind grew foggy, his hands cold before numbing entirely, and then, the fangs withdrew, and he collapsed against the baron.  
  
He was barely aware of being lowered, of words being spoken to him. He saw Alexander's face above him, pale and out of focus. His eyes slipped closed, he couldn't possibly keep them open when they'd suddenly become as heavy as lead… And then he tasted it, the fresh blood in his mouth. The first drops slid into his throat and he swallowed instinctively. He couldn't think, he couldn't see through the white fog engulfing him and dragging him with it… And then his lips clamped on the wound bleeding into his open mouth and he thought no more of anything but the taste of the bleed, and that he needed to have more, more, more, lest this thirst, for he was more thirsty than he'd ever been in his entire life, claim and kill him.  
  
His subconscious screamed for him to drink and he obeyed; it was as though his bones were on fire and the only way to ease the pain was to drink. It burned, scorched all the way down like some acid corroding his insides, and his legs twitched and kicked thin air desperately, though he wasn't aware of it. He was certainly dying; surely nothing could hurt this much but dying; and every drop that went down his throat was liquid fire itself. _I'm burning alive,_ he thought wildly, but somewhere at the back of his mind was another voice, a calmer, deeper voice that told him to keep drinking, and the touch of that voice was like a steadying hand on his shoulder.  
  
And then, as suddenly as though he'd broken through the surface of water, the pain, the burning was gone, and not a single part of him felt sore or ached at its absence. The bleeding wrist was wrenched out of his grip – when had his fingers wound around Alexander's arm like that? – and his eyes flew open, and Alexander's face was there, hovering mere inches over him. Everything seemed very bright, much brighter than usual, and the baron's hair was so white that it seemed to emit a glow of its own. His face broke into a smile, and Daniel realised he was lying on his lap.  
  
“Rise, my love.”  
  
And with a smile of his own, Daniel did.


	26. Epilogue

_EPILOGUE_

_October 1892_

The laughter and singing from the streets seemed to never cease, though it was already two hours past midnight. It was convenient, Alexander supposed; the city never truly slept, and it made sure the servants never asked questions, either. Even at this hour he could still see unextingushed candles from the windows of neighbouring houses, their inhabitants up and about. He heard someone open the doors of the balcony of the house next to theirs and the quiet chatter of men as bitter smell of smoke filled the air. Somewhere, a woman laughed.

It was only a little afterwards that the front door opened and closed, and he recognised his lover from the sound of his footsteps. Alexander smiled. The younger man had never learned to muffle his footsteps – or just never bothered to learn. Alexander supposed it was a question of birth; the Englishman had grown up a commoner, and the mannerism that was expected of the nobility had never burdened him. Alexander walked as silently as death itself, but then again he'd always done so. It was something he'd never been able to shake off in his later years, even after his parents had both died and there had been no one left to scold him for not behaving. __  
  
Daniel stepped into the room, the ghost of laughter still on his face. His eyes were bright and wild and the scent of blood was heavy around him, like incense.  
  
“You should have come out with me tonight,” the brunette was saying. He cast his overcoat on an empty stool and threw himself unceremoniously on an armchair next to Alexander's. “Hunting isn't as enjoyable on my own, you know.”  
  
“It seems you've managed to amuse yourself just fine without me,” the elder responded. There was a heady mixture of scents that clung to him, even under the smell of blood; perfume, sweat, alcohol. Daniel flashed a grin at him.  
  
“Amusements have a tendency of finding me in the end.”  
  
“Don't get caught while playing with your friends.”  
  
“I never get caught,” he laughed. That was one thing he never did outside of Alexander's company; his smile was too open and too sharp, and thus he restrained himself around others. His smiles and laughter where for Alexander alone, and the elder guarded them jealously.  
  
Daniel wasn't one for sitting still – never had been, never would be, it seemed. He got up again, pulling books from their shelves, chatting as he went. Alexander wasn't really listening; he followed the brunette's every movement intently. How his eyes flickered back and forth, every little gesture of his hands, every quicksilver expression. Watching him was hypnotising, and the elder never grew weary of it. Over the years Daniel's bearing had relaxed, much of his guarded behaviour melting away in the face of his immortality. He glanced over his shoulder at the older man, checking that he was still paying attention, and began reciting some poem he'd picked up earlier.  
  
Moonlight crept in through the open doors of the balcony, dressing the room in its silvery light. Daniel brushed a lock of hair out of his face irritably, a small frown marring his face for a moment. He had complained, as Alexander had known he would, about his hair staying as it had been before his turning – just long enough to reach below his chin, but never long enough for a proper ponytail. It had driven the younger man crazy when he'd realised, truly realised, that it would remain like that forever.  
  
Daniel stepped on the balcony, his back towards the elder. Wind caught in his hair again, silver ripples of moonlight dancing in it. He was as ghostly white as the finest marble and always a little too thin – it felt like he was made of nothing but sharp elbows and knees sleeping next to Alexander. The elder saw him tilt back his head ever so slightly, inhaling the cold night air. Like this he appeared strangely ethereal, and Alexander couldn't help holding his breath while watching him.  
  
It wasn't that he was beautiful too look at; it was that something about him felt like a homecoming.  
  
“Come watch the moon with me,” Daniel called out.  
  
Alexander chuckled, rising. “Haven't we looked our fill for several lifetimes already?”  
  
“Perhaps you have, but I'm not quite done yet.”  
  
They spoke no more, lapsing into comfortable silence. Alexander's eyes moved from constellation to constellation, quietly naming them in his head as he leaned against the younger man, slowly breathing in his familiar scent. Around them Venice bubbled with life as it always had, and Alexander knew that before long they'd desert this city, too, as they had others before it. Places and people changed; only they stood unchanged by time, but that was alright.  
  
He was always home, and home was wherever they went.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus it comes to an end. It feels weird - almost like I'm parting with a piece of myself - but everything must have an ending, inevitably, and I've known how this story would end ever since I started writing it. You guys didn't actually think I would give this story a sad ending, right? I sure hope not (but I'm glad the anticipation has kept so many of you on your toes and had you worrying about Daniel and Alexander!). I'm tired of writers killing off gay characters in works of fiction - that's one trope I wish I'd never have to see again - and I don't want to contribute to that, personally.
> 
> I would like to take this moment to thank every single one of you who read this story, left kudos, bookmarked it and stopped by to leave a comment or two along the way. Thank you, thank you from the bottom of my heart. All of you have played a crucial role in writing this story, believe it or not. I wouldn't have done it without you. And I want to especially thank those of you who read it all the way to the end - thank you for sticking around and following Daniel's journey to this point. It has meant the world to me to share this journey with you guys and talk about it with you, and now, with a heavy heart, I will put it down and leave the two lovebirds to survive on their own. They'll be fine, I'm sure. It has been my mission since the epilogue to tell a vampire story that I, a person who does not like vampire fiction, would enjoy, but I have to be frank with you: I just wanted to tell a love story, a larger-than-life sort of love story, because let's face it, I am a huge fucking romantic and that's that.
> 
> Love you guys. Stay awesome and let me know, for one last time, what you thought about the story. <3 I'll be writing new stories and drawing new things about these two, but in the meantime, feel free to chat with me at my blog (nereiarts @ Tumblr) or at my dA (Auraboo). Goodnight, guys.


End file.
